


Oh My Wandering Jewel, Home Again (D Version)

by Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: "A Lucky Fall" AU of the Desperate Hours AU (D) [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boromir Lives, Brothers, Diplomacy, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Harad, Humor, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mentors, Protectiveness, Spanking, Umbar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:32:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just before midwinter, Faramir returns from a dangerous trip to Umbar. It is hard to tell who is more happy to see him arrived safely home - King or Steward, father or brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome News

**Author's Note:**

> A/N 1: This story is set in the Lucky Fall AU of my normal Desperate Hours stories, so, an AU of my normal AU, the difference being that Boromir survived the war. For the other stories in the Lucky Fall AU, check out http://archiveofourown.org/series/45520. For a description of the DH AU generally, see http://archiveofourown.org/series/8893. 
> 
> A/N 2: A much-delayed gift for Firstar, who asked for a story set in the Lucky Fall AU after Aragorn knows that Faramir is his son, with Aragorn, Faramir, and Boromir. I started working on it sometime last fall. Thanks to Firstar for her patience and kind reviews and support. A sincere thank you also to all of my readers and reviewers, for your encouragement generally and with respect to this AU of the AU. 
> 
> A/N 3: Faramir and Eowyn's daughter in this story is named Rochilien, which is a Sindarin name meaning Rider's Daughter or Rider Lady. In Sindarin, my understanding is that the "ch" is a hard sound, so the royal family and the elves would pronounce her name as "Ro-killien." I think that the Rohirrim would pronounce it more softly, more like "Ro-hilien," and I've written that the people in Eryn Vorn, which was once part of Arnor, pronounce it even more softly, "Ro-shillien." As it is Aragorn, Boromir, and Faramir discussing his daughter in this story, they would pronounce her name "Ro-killien." 
> 
> Quote: 
> 
> "We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." - T. S. Eliot

Aragorn wandered the halls of the Citadel. It was just a week before the Winter Solstice. The air was scented with pine and cinnamon. For such a joyous time of year, it felt lonely to the King. So many of his family were away. He'd left the King's House due to that emptiness and sought out the Citadel, which was at least livelier. Even if he did seem to be inhibiting the efforts of his poor night staff as much as aiding them, by wandering about thusly. 

He nodded to a Candes, a maid-servant who knew him well enough to only smile and nod a soft "Good evening, Sire," in reply as she braided mistletoe through holly. A conscripted groom was not so lucky, and would have fallen from a ladder in surprise at seeing the King wandering about in scuffed slippers and a frayed tunic, had Aragorn not reached out to steady him. 

"Sorry, Sir." Apologized Candes, with a twinkle in her brown eyes. "Saethal is new here." 

"And quite dedicated." Aragorn complimented the poor startled youth in an attempt to help him restore his composure, "To be working this late into the eve with good cheer." 

Poor Saethal wasn't done being surprised, it seemed, for it was at that point that a very loud crash sounded from the office ofAragorn's Lord Steward. Even Candes, who had worked at the Citadel since the end of the war and who was quite accustomed to crashes coming from Prince Boromir's work space, was rather taken aback at tonight's loud clamor. 

Aragorn sighed, but he expected that his own eyes were twinkling. "I'd best go see what he's up to." Said the King with false resignation. In truth, he was rather glad for the interruption, and the prospect of his Steward's company. Provided of course that the crash hadn't been the result of anything dire, but Aragorn had great faith in Boromir's ability to cause non-dire clatter in his office. Faith which had been more than justified by ample past experience, and which was justified again this night.

"Dare I even ask, other-son?" Aragorn inquired archly, though he couldn't hide his smile at the sight of Boromir, crouched half on the floor trying to right a giant stuffed-and-mounted bear. The old grizzly had been immortalized standing upright, all seven feet of him, and snarling, with his claws outstretched. Boromir had caught the thing around its menacing arms, and looked quite funny trying to keep it from the pool of spilled ink incongruously seeping into his carpet. Boromir was extremely hard on office furnishings. 

"What? Oh, Aragorn." The mighty blond warrior wheezed, tilting his head upside-down to look up at the King. "Stop laughing on the inside and help me to right old Toothless, will you?" 

The bear seemed to be entirely too well endowed with teeth to Aragorn, even if a couple were missing, but he went to Boromir's aid gamely enough. He was careful to step over the ink, though. Boromir had apparently gone sliding into it. At a guess, after he'd thrown a pot of ink which had knocked over a mounted spear which had then knocked into "Toothless," causing it to fall over, at which point the Steward of Gondor had dived into save the disreputable looking thing.

"Toothless" was missing patches of hair here and there, and looked almost as if it had always been. Yet, when they'd set it securely on its feet, safe from the devastation, Boromir still sighed in relief. More relief than he'd shown when they'd retrieved the Great Seal of Gondor out from where Aragorn's puppies had hidden it. 

"Someday, one of you is going to have to explain why this ratty old bear is so precious." Aragorn remarked with asperity. Boromir's possession of the monstrosity was apparently a coveted honor, granted unto him by Faramir and Lords Tyorvond, Gendarion, andDervorin, upon the occasion of Boromir's having gotten though an entire season of council sessions without yelling at anyone, or challenging anyone to a duel. Every so often, when Boromir lost his temper, someone would threaten to offer the bear a new home. It was more effective than most of the tactics Aragorn had developed to rein the younger man in, and he'd really like to know why. 

Boromir just grinned at him impudently. "We decided that Faramir should be the one to tell you. In his own time, of course." 

That was a jibe about Aragorn so often trying to let Faramir do things 'in his own time.' Faramir could be remarkably stubborn, but Boromir was just as bad, and Aragorn said so. 

The Steward looked ready to dispute that hotly. 

"Why don't you tell me why you are heaving ink pots about? Again." Aragorn asked, in a bid to distract Boromir more than out of a real desire for the information. As desperate for company as Aragorn had been, asking Boromir why he'd decided to throw things of an evening was often even more of an excursion into the brier patch than Aragorn wanted to embark on this late at night. Still, he loved Boromir dearly, considered the man like unto another son to him, and he did want to help. Aragorn hoped it wasn't one of those occasions where Boromir had already done something so inadvisable that his first bit of help was going to need to be applying the flat of his hand firmly against his Steward's stubborn buttocks. 

The younger man was out of sorts, for many of the same reasons that Aragorn himself had been at loose ends, wandering the halls. Both of their wives had traveled with Boromir's step-son Tavan to see his grandmother, Lady Andumavi of the Stonewain Valley. Arwen and Nessanie - and Tavan and his younger half-brother Baranor, Boromir's heir - should all be home within a few days. Not so Boromir's own younger half-brother and Aragorn's only son Faramir, who had been serving as Gondor's ambassador to Umbar, and who would not be home until at least several weeks after the approaching winter solstice. 

Instead of answering, Boromir sighed, and ran an aggravated hand through his hair. By doing so, he left streaks of blue-black ink in his golden locks, almost like tiger-stripes. Aragorn's lips twitched into a smile, but fortunately Boromir was not paying attention. 

Gesturing to the floor around them and his desk, both of which were littered with crumpled up balls of parchment, Boromir complained, "I can't think of any way to thank Lord Sendarion for his 'helpful' attempt to monopolize the market on salt and nutmeg without sounding like I think we should have him imprisoned instead." From the expression on Boromir's face, the Steward still didn't really understand why trying to drive up prices in a clear bid to bankrupt one's competitors wasn't a criminal offense. Aragorn could appreciate that, but when something wasn't yet illegal, and no one had been physically hurt, the best thing they could do was to change the law. And make it clear that Crown, Council, and Steward didn't approve. But without actually descending to calling Lord Sendar filthy names. 

Aragorn chuckled fondly, and gave Boromir an affectionate slap on the back. "Let me see what you've got so far, other-son. Perhaps I can aid you with the letter, so that you may yet salvage your night of drunken debauchery with your friends." The King offered, realizing that his Steward had sacrificed plans to make merriment with his fellow Lords Gendarion and Galdoron whilst their wives were away with the Queen, all to finish drafts of this correspondence to make Aragorn's life easier. Well, it was Boromir's job, but it was one that did not come easily to him, and Aragorn appreciated that, too. 

Boromir winced, but gamely picked up a specific crumpled up ball from out of a delicate vase which Arwen had given him. "This was my latest draft." He said, adding defensively, "it's still not very good." 

Aragorn braced himself, and then looked. And then squinted, because reading Boromir's handwriting, even after two years of working with him, and a lifetime of reading Elrohir's scrawl, was still somewhat challenging. 

When the words finally made sense, Aragorn sighed. Boromir winced, as well as he should. 

"Boromir, my dear troublesome youth, any letter which begins includes the phrase 'you flatulent old wind-bag,' certainly falls short of the standards of diplomacy we strive for, even you." 

Boromir ran his hands through his hair again, and Aragorn DEFINITELY wasn't going to warn him about the ink now. "You really should have just appointed Faramir to do this job, 'Ada Aragorn.' He would be much better at it." Boromir complained. 

Aragorn rolled the parchment up and swatted Boromir with it. "You have a way with people, which is more important than being good at paperwork. Come, we'll work on this. You - and I - can't rely on Faramir for these things forever. He is too gifted to stay as our glorified secretary, and deserves something of his own besides." 

"But not sending him as our emissary to countries with whom we were recently at war." Boromir objected as they both returned to his desk. "I do not like him doing that." 

"Yes, I know that you do not like it, and most of Minas Tirith is aware, as well." Aragorn answered, fishing for and finding the list of points painstakingly prepared by Boromir's staff for him to include in the letter. "No place in the world is truly safe, Boromir. Not for your brother, and not for anyone. At least we sent him to treat with a man whom I know to be personally honorable. We have surrounded him with armed men of our own choosing, and all the world knows that any harm to our Faramir would be our excuse to start a war that Umbar would lose." Before Boromir could answer, Aragorn continued, "Now, let's see if we can be a bit kinder to our acquisitive Lord Sendar." Changing the topic frequently was a key to dealing with Boromir when it came to certain topics, and anything involving Faramir's safety was one of them. 

Before they could truly settle into that work, Candes escorted a messenger to the Steward's door. 

"Pardon, Prince Boromir, your Majesty," the messenger began. Aragorn sighed internally. Another newer fellow, who would "your Majesty" him to death, when those who were more familiar with him and less overwhelmed had at least been persuaded to use the more familiar "Sire" or "Sir." 

"A ship is coming up the Anduin. A big one, flying the standard of the Princes of Dol Amroth." The messenger reported. 

"Telemnar?" Aragorn asked Boromir in surprise, for he could think of no other ship Captain so brave or foolhardy, to sail here at this point in the dangerous winter storm season. 

Boromir shrugged. "Could be. Maybe his year isn't complete if he doesn't make a suicidal winter running of the Straits of Tolfalas." When Aragorn looked a bit sick, Boromir hastened to reassure him, "Don't worry, he's only sunk once in all the years he's sailed for my uncle." 

"Hmm." Murmured the King, as Boromir invited the messenger to partake of the hot meat-filled biscuits and spiced cider the late working Candes had brought them. 

Aragorn and Boromir had more or less worked out a draft of the admonitory letter that they could both live with, when the same messenger came running back again. This time he was so out of breath that he was practically panting. 

"Your Majesty...Your Highness...," He said breathlessly, "the ship has hoisted a second standard. That of the Prince of Eryn Nelsir." 

Aragorn and Boromir both shot to their feet, for that was Faramir's standard. Boromir's brother, Aragorn's son, Prince Faramir of the House of Telcontar. The heir presumptive to the Reunited Kingdoms, and by his father's appointment the Prince of a part of Arnor that had not been truly inhabited for over a thousand years.


	2. Faramir's Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faramir returns to Minas Tirith.

"He must have taken ship, instead of going overland." Boromir snapped out, as he reached for a cloak. Aragorn borrowed one as well, for the night was bitterly cold. 

"Thank you, lad." Aragorn told the messenger, before outpacing Boromir to the hall. "So he must have. A good idea, to send no word of it. No one would know where to look for him, even if our message relay was compromised." Aragorn paused as they reached the small stable kept just for the Citadel and House of Healing. Without any discussion, the two men resolved to ride instead of walk, although that was not the norm even for the royal household within the city. 

"Sweet Eru, he made good time, even by ship." Aragorn marveled, as they passed the gate down to the fifth level. 

Boromir's grin flashed brilliant white against the moonless night. "Failing to make good time was never anyone's complaint, about sailing with Uncle Telemnar." Boromir used their affectionate title for the crazy old sea captain, who was Imrahil's brother-in-law. 

Aragorn didn't even know if he wanted to know what that meant. In fact, he was sure that he didn't. Instead, he wondered, "I wonder if Eowyn and my granddaughter are with him." 

"At a guess, no." Ventured Boromir, with a snort of laughter, "Eomer has been practically screaming for Eowyn and Rochilien to visit, with Lothiriel so near her time." With a fierce grin for the King, Boromir added, "Besides, I doubt that your only daughter-by-law is in any hurry to get scolded by you. Or me, for that matter." 

That was probably so, Aragorn thought to himself with a sigh, as they streamed past the startled third level guards. Eowyn had set sail from Eryn Vorn not long after Faramir went to talk treaties in Umbar. The Captain of that ship, and Eowyn's royal guards. had been supposed to take Eowyn and her daughter Rochilien to Rohan via the River Isen. How exactly Eowyn had convinced them that they were supposed to take her to Umbar, with which Gondor had so recently been at war, and in which still dwelled some of the conspirators who were trying to stir up another war, the same conspirators who had poisoned Eowyn just this past summer, Aragorn didn't know. But it was absolutely something his daughter-by-law would do. Full sails ahead, no back-up strategy, win or die trying. It was very Eowyn. 

Faramir was more careful. Aragorn's only son tended to have back-up strategies for even his fall-back plans. What Faramir must have thought when his wife and baby daughter swanned up to join him in the city of their enemies, Aragorn could only imagine. But he knew better than to interrogate Faramir about it. Faramir would stand by his wife, as Aragorn would do for Arwen. He knew that about his son, even though he was still getting to know Faramir. 

In what might be a new speed record for peace-time, Aragorn and Boromir had reached the quay. A slender, familiar figure was stepping out onto the dock, over the ice of the river. Boromir gave a glad shout of joy and rushed forward, but Aragorn too would have known that dear silhouette anywhere. 

"Like a mangy mutt, you come swimming home on a cold winter's night, my brother!" Roared Boromir exuberantly, as he went forward to lift Faramir near off his feet in a bruising hug. 

Aragorn laughed softly at the brothers' antics, but did not interfere. He let Boromir go first, and have his moment with his brother. For the two of them had had eachother, and sometimes only eachother, for all of the thirty-six years of Faramir's life. It was a prior claim, and one that Aragorn respected, as much as he'd come to love Faramir as his son, and Boromir as his 'other son,' the beloved brother of his son and the other jewel of his heart. 

They were a matched set, Gondor's jewels, and Aragorn did not know how he could have forged a real relationship with Faramir, if Boromir hadn't been there for both of them, the doorway to his brother's heart, despite Boromir's own feelings of sorrow and jealousy and even envy. Though Aragorn hoped he'd eased the envy somewhat, over the few years he'd had with the two brothers since the end of the war. 

Faramir laughed too, as his brother finally set him back down on his feet. "Calm down, Brom. One would think that you had never expected to see me again, the way that you carry on." Faramir's momentarily stern expression should have let Boromir know that Faramir thought that fear foolish and irritating, "And besides," Faramir continued on more lightly whilst wrinkling his nose, "You smell worse than I do, brother-mine, and I've been on board a ship for weeks." 

"Never mind that." Boromir said, his eyes suspiciously bright as he clapped a hand to Faramir's shoulder, "Come, you mannerless foxling, have you no greeting for your father and King?" 

Faramir's intent regard turned to Aragorn. Affection was there for a moment, more even than the normally verbose Faramir had the words for, or perhaps felt comfortable saying. Then, mischief bubbled in the depths of his son's wise gray eyes. It warned Aragorn of what would be coming next, but this was one of the first times the unwanted formality had been in jest. 

Faramir went to kneel, and Aragorn moved to stop him doing that while Boromir groaned and reached out to knock Faramir over. Then Faramir grinned, side-stepped his brother, and threw his arms around Aragorn in a warm embrace, saying sincerely, "I missed you, Sir."

Aragorn had to laugh, as he wrapped his arms around his slender son. "I missed you too, you irritating brat." Pulling Faramir away from him just far enough to press his forehead gently against his son's, Aragorn added a heart felt, "Welcome home, Faramir. Welcome home, my dear son." 

"Brat is closer to right." Boromir grumbled, as he caught his balance. "What if I'd fallen onto the ice?" 

"It would have broken under your noble weight, my brother, and then you would have been wet but fine." Faramir smoothly retorted, as Aragorn put an arm around him, shaking his head. His heart lightened as Faramir accepted that continued display of affection without even stiffening in protest. 

"If you call me 'Sir' again without turning it into a jest," Aragorn reminded Faramir lightly, "Then I will let Boromir throw you into another fountain. An indoor one, of course, given the weather, and not tonight. Sometime after you've been fed and rested." 

"Why do you think I dared to greet you so on this specific night?" Faramir asked, his eyes laughing again. 

Aragorn had to laugh in turn, glad to see the normally serious and somber Faramir actually happy and comfortable enough to show his mischievous side. Even Boromir smiled, although it was a rueful, irritated smile that did not bode well for Faramir in the future. 

With his arm still around his son, Aragorn began to observe the other comings and goings from the ship. Captain Telemnar was there, of course, having a lively discussion with a river pilot about whether and when his ship could make it back out of the iced up northern Anduin and down to the sea. Four of Faramir's six personal guards were taking up discrete positions around the king and his princes, supplementing the eight alert-eyed men who had followed Aragorn and Boromir from the citadel. 

Captain Magordan, now the commander of Faramir's personal guard, and formally the captain of Aragorn's, came up beside them. 

"How did it go, eh, Magordan?" Aragorn asked, extending a hand in greeting to his long-time companion and one-time mentor. 

With a shrug, Magordan answered, deadpan calm despite a suspicious glint of amusement deep in his brown eyes, "It was a trip to Umbar, my King. It reminded me of our first trip to Umbar together, back when you were about our Prince's age." 

"I'll have you know that I was at least twenty-some years older than our Faramir is now, when first we sailed to Umbar town together!" Aragorn lectured, concerned, because that trip had been entirely too exciting. Mostly thanks to Telemnar, who had burned the Umbaran slavers’ guild to the ground, freeing some several thousand souls in the process.

"Hmm." Said Magordan. His eyes were definitely twinkling now, and Aragorn knew that he would get no more out of the man. So obliquely had Magordan once answered Lord Elrond and Lord Dirhael, about what their fosterling the young Captain Aragorn had gotten up to. Of course, sometimes Magordan had snitched on young Aragorn, but more often than not he'd given his lord the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes after applying his own firm hand or a stout paddle to his young lord's backside, but Magordan did not bring home tales. He'd trusted Aragorn to come clean to his father and grandfather about major incidences, which Aragorn had most often done. Part of the motivation for that honesty came from Aragorn's knowing that if he hadn't, Magordan would have learned of it and possibly reconsidered his 'no tattling' rule. 

Magordan had accompanied Aragorn to Rohan and then Gondor, starting when Aragorn had been a decade younger than his son’s current age. He had been among the few dozen Northern Dunedain who had accompanied Elrohir and Elladan to help Aragorn win the battle on the Pelennor. On the way to the Black Gate and every day thereafter until the end of their recent brief war with Rhun, Magordan had been the Captain of Aragorn’s guard. A watchful eye looking out for Aragorn, and a steady, reliable friend.

And now he was the same for Faramir. Aragorn's protective but otherwise easy-going mentor was the best gift he could give his son. Even if it meant losing Magordan's company, and giving up some of his loyalty to Faramir. Also, Aragorn had wanted someone responsible to keep an eye on Faramir after his son's surprise appearance during their brief war with the Easterlings. 

Aragorn reflected with rueful fondness that his Faramir had a knack for persuading people to agree to things that they never would have even contemplated under normal circumstances. When Gondor had gone to war the previous year with the Easterlings, Aragorn had ordered that his son and sole heir remain behind in Minas Tirith, to assist Arwen in her new role as regent. Faramir had appeared to accept that decision, albeit with reluctance. He'd gone so far as to be cold and slightly distant to his newly-found father and beloved brother over the whole matter. That coldness had bothered Aragorn almost as much as it had troubled Boromir, but neither had been willing to change their mind. Faramir, apparently, had realized that, and had resolved not to openly debate his father's decision. Instead he had focused his considerable eloquence upon his bodyguards, eventually convincing them to assist him in leaving Minas Tirith discreetly to join the defending army, despite that act being clearly against the will of their King. 

Both awed and appalled by his son's diplomatic skills, Aragorn had assigned Margordan to command Faramir's reorganized guard. A few month's later, against Boromir's will and his council's better judgment, Aragorn had sent Faramir to Umbar to negotiate a treaty with the Emir of Umbar and the Doge of the Havens of the Corsairs. Now, that treaty was successfully concluded, and Faramir was home. Aragorn was almost perfectly happy, save...

"Rochilien and Eowyn have gone to Rohan." Faramir answered the unspoken question concerning his daughter and wife's whereabouts. Faramir's gray eyes were soft with sympathy for his father, and showed his own sorrow at being parted again from his young family. 

"Ah well," Aragorn said, trying to hide his disappointment, "I am sure that Eomer and Lothiriel will be grateful for their company." 

Faramir hazarded a wry smile. "At least the tone of Eomer-King's letters might improve." Eomer, when discontented, lost even that small amount of tact which he normally posessed. Aragorn chuckled quietly, glad again to have Faramir back, and to see more evidence of Faramir's quiet, understated sense of humor. It was one trait that Aragorn shared with his new-found son. The first time that Aragorn felt confident that he and Faramir might forge a true father-son relationship, was when Aragorn had realized that they both found the same things funny. 

Boromir, meanwhile, was striding forward to insert himself into the discussion between Captain Telemnar and the poor river pilot. Aragorn let him go, sharing another wry smile with his son about Faramir's hot-headed but good-hearted brother. 

Putting an arm back around Faramir's shoulders, Aragorn inquired of Magordan, "You sent Orohael to Rohan to protect my daughter-by-law and granddaughter?" 

Magordan's lips twitched into a slight smile, while Faramir looked remarkably blank-faced. 

"I did." Magordan answered. "After having a long talk with Halrandir." 

Aragorn's eyes narrowed. Halrandir had been the lieutenant in charge of Eowyn's guard detachment, the one who had ended up taking the White Lady and her daughter to Umbar rather than Rohan. "I'd like a word with Halrandir, myself." Aragorn said lightly. 

Faramir cleared his throat. "I'd like a chance to speak for him, when that time comes." He offered mildly. 

"You'll have it, ion-nin." Aragorn promised sternly, "But it may well be that he goes to join Anborn and Beregrond in the White Company, should you wish him there after his career with the royal guards has ended." 

"Yes, Adar, Sir." Faramir answered, level and fair, but Aragorn knew Faramir well enough to know when he was hiding a wince. 

Magordan gave his charge a sardonic look. "And would you like to renew your standing offer to return my person to your father's service, eh, my Prince?" 

Faramir grinned back and demurred, as Aragorn chuckled. Faramir offering Magordan - and Magordan's careful supervision - back to Aragorn had become somewhat of a joke, between the three of them. Magordan and Faramir worked together well now, and as much as Aragorn did miss his old friend's company, he was very happy for how this had worked out. 

Boromir returned to them with the disgruntled Captain Telemnar in tow, and their whole party headed back up to the citadel. Walking this time, as was Faramir's preference. Aragorn's son liked to see and feel the streets of his city. Faramir saw Minas Tirith just as dearly but rather differently than Boromir, and it was always a revelation for Aragorn to walk beside his son from the great gates to the Citadel. 

Faramir looked better, Aragorn noted with relief, as the slender younger man called out greetings to those he knew who were about the city at this late evening hour. Before being sent to Umbar, Faramir and Eowyn both had been much burdened by grief. Less than a year ago, Eowyn had been given a poisoned fig by a child whose younger sister she had delivered. Between Aragorn's wisdom and his brothers' they had managed to save the White Lady's life, but she had lost the child she carried. Six months along, and obviously a son. The loss had tormented their entire family, but most grievously Eowyn and Faramir. In the wake of that devastation, they had clung to one another, and to Rochilien their one year old daughter, and even to their respective duties. Aragorn hadn't been sure about sending Faramir to Umbar, for that among other reasons, but the task had been one that his son was eminently suited for. And, the King thought, one that Faramir wished to take on, as well. 

He was glad to see that he had not been wrong, glad to see the spring once again in his son's step and the sparkle to his eyes. Coming back from his mental wanderings, Aragorn was surprised to see Faramir eyeing him with gentle amusement. 

'Yes, Ada Aragorn, I am well, truly well.' The younger man's grey eyes spoke clearly. 'Yes, Umbar was good for me, and for my ladies. And we for it, as well, and for Gondor, too.' Aloud, Faramir said only, "You do not need to worry for me so much, Adar." 

"Ha!" Said Boromir. Faramir narrowed his eyes at his brother and probably would have kicked him on the shin or something equally juvenile, save that Faramir had better manners. And so did Boromir, at least in public. At least in general. Sometimes, in private, Aragorn felt like a scolding tutor or even governess, intervening in squabbles between the two adult brothers. Most of the time, Aragorn didn't really mind. 

There was no malice, between his son and his son's half-brother, even when circumstances and their differing personalities put them at odds. There was frustration, and love, and in some ways the relief of two young men who had never really been allowed to be children, to fight and argue as children do. The spats which now occurred between the brothers, now that they could disagree without fearing Denethor's wrath, were frequently more amusing than they were annoying. Boromir and Faramir were united in public and restrained in their clashes of will in front of the children, so Aragorn, and the rest of the adults in the 'family,' generally ignored the scrapping between the Prince of Ithilien and Prince of Eryn Vorn, or stepped around it when it turned into an impromptu wrestling match, as it sometimes did. 

It was usually left to Aragorn to call the two brothers to heel when their wrangling went too far. He wasn't exactly sure why, other than that he was Faramir's father and Boromir's King, and did love them both. To his mind, it really ought to be Arwen's job, since one word from her was enough to stop both brothers in their tracks. Or even the job of their wives, but Nessanie and Eowyn were generally more amused than helpful. Eowyn had been known to comment that her uncle hadn't usually intervened in similar contretemps between Eomer and Theodred until the dogs got involved. Aragorn's foster-father and father-by-law Elrond, before he sailed, had found the whole thing extremely funny. Or at least, he'd found Aragorn having to be the one to play peacemaker and father between the two tussling brothers extremely amusing. 

But fortunately, the brothers were in public this night, and also too glad to see eachother again to get into much of an argument on their way back to the citadel. Shedding guards, luggage, and attendants, it was just Aragorn, Faramir, and Boromir who ended up together in Aragorn's study in the nearly empty King's House. The fire had been stoked up until it burned merrily, and drink and food had been laid out on a side table. Someone had realized that with their Prine home, he might be hungry, and Aragorn silently blessed that soul and made a note to look them up later.


	3. Chapter 3

But fortunately, the brothers were in public this night, and also too glad to see eachother again to get into much of an argument on their way back to the citadel. Shedding guards, luggage, and attendants, it was just Aragorn, Faramir, and Boromir who ended up together in Aragorn's study in the nearly empty King's House. The fire had been stoked up until it burned merrily, and drink and food had been laid out on a side table. Someone had realized that with their Prine home, he might be hungry, and Aragorn silently blessed that soul and made a note to look them up later. 

Boromir gently shoved his brother into a chair, and then set to taking off Faramir's boots. The younger man sighed gratefully. 

"Where's your sneaky shadow?" Boromir inquired archly of his brother. Boromir was referring to Dervorin, nephew of the Lord Tyorvond of the Ringlo Vale, and the cousin of Gendarion his heir, one of Boromir's own dear friends. Dervorin was now Gondor's spymaster, although he'd gotten his start as Faramir's second, when the two then-Ithilien ranger lieutenants had begun to expand from scouting to spying. Faramir had still been playing the role of a spy on occasion, when the Ring War ended. Boromir had put a quick stop to that, at least in the main. Aragorn, after listening to the opinions of both brothers on the issue - before he even knew that Faramir was his son- had supported Boromir's decision, but allowed that Faramir might still meet with contacts to transition new men from the spy network into the roles he had played. Aragorn had overruled Boromir to allow Faramir to participate in such meetings, but only to the extent that they occurred within Gondor's borders, or just outside, and only when they occurred in situations where Faramir's relative safety could be secured. And only with Boromir's and Aragorn's advance knowledge and approval. 

Faramir had ignored all of those conditions when it pleased him, on what had apparently been numerous occasions. Boromir had been far afield when one of Faramir's guards noticed that their Prince was not where he should have been, and notified Aragorn as to what his son had been up to. Aragorn had found himself stricken with worry, as at the time Faramir had been in Near Harad, meeting with some very disreputable and powerful slavers to negotiate the release of captured Gondorian sailors. Aragorn and his escort had met his wayward son just over the border to Ithilien. It was the first time that Aragorn had been so worried, as a father. The first time that Faramir had defied him, and done something that merited more than a scolding or a lecture. Aragorn had not handled it as well as he might have. 

The ferocious lecture and sound strapping that Aragorn had given Faramir had both been well-earned. But Aragorn still kicked himself for not realizing that the look in Faramir's eyes hadn't all been trepidation and upset at being caught, some of it had been real fear. Well-hidden, extremely well-hidden, for Faramir had learned too well under Denethor, and in the south, to hide what he felt. Aragorn saw reserve, and had taken it for continued defiance, when it truth it had been iron self-control covering fear and confusion. If Aragorn had seen the fear, or even the confusion, he would have handled the matter more gently. No less firmly, but more gently. And he would never have used a strap, knowing that the damage done to his son, some of the scars that Faramir still bore, had been inflicted with a belt that was not, in Faramir's perspective, that much different from a strap. Boromir had known that, had known of his brother's fear of being disciplined with anything made out of leather. Boromir would have stopped Aragorn from using the strap or anything like it, if Boromir had been there. But he hadn't been there, either to make Aragorn realize that Faramir was afraid or to remind the King that it was a long ride from the border of Ithilien back to Minas Tirith. 

Boromir did return to Minas Tirith in time to have a memorable argument with Aragorn about who got to deal with Faramir's pushing himself too hard in respect of the other punishment duties that Aragorn had assigned. An argument Aragorn won, and a trouble that he handled better. Faramir had worked his hands bloody cleaning, and if Dervorin hadn't 'snitched,' as Faramir later complained, he might well have done himself a more serious injury before Aragorn knew to intervene. 

For that, and for many other reasons, Aragorn was very fond of Dervorin, so he listened closely as Faramir explained his friend's current whereabouts. 

"Dervorin - and his new wife Sayyida - are with Eowyn and Rochilien, on the way to Rohan." Faramir answered, closing his eyes and then making a small sound of contentment as Aragorn began massaging his shoulders. "Sayyida is pregnant. Dev is over the moon but nearly as worried as Eomer is about Lothiriel, so we thought it best to have them go to Edoras, where all of the world's best healers, human and elven, have congregated for the birth of Lothiriel and Eomer's first child." Faramir was only being a small amount facetious. Aragorn was not sure that there had ever been such a gathering of healers as were now present in Edoras. 

Boromir spit out the wine he had just poured for himself. "Dev...married?" He choked, gasping. 

Faramir chuckled lightly. "Yes." 

Aragorn frowned as he went to go and prepare a plate of food for Faramir. "To a woman?" To the best of Aragorn's knowledge, all of Dervorin's serious relationships had been with men. 

Both brothers gave Aragorn an odd look. Boromir waved that question off. "I can't even count Dev's different paramours, and at least half were women. Usually beautiful women." Boromir turned to his brother, "Please tell me that you didn't let your best friend marry some southron wench just to get us a better tariff on...I don't know, nutmeg." 

Faramir frowned at his brother. 

"Here." Aragorn said, distracting his son with a full plate, fruit and cheese and a bowl of venison stew with several pieces of cornbread. "Eat this, and do not even think of throwing the cornbread at your brother." 

"Hannon le, Adar-nin." Faramir murmured, his light blush informing Aragorn that he had been strongly considering doing just that. Aragorn felt some sympathy for Faramir - it was a very insulting question. He knew that Faramir would never do such a thing, even had Dervorin been willing. Boromir should know it, too, but Boromir's mouth quite often ran ahead of his mind. 

Faramir crumbled his cornbread into his stew. Aragorn smiled to see it, for that was how the dish was commonly eaten in Arnor. Boromir had the grace to look abashed for his question, but that didn't stop him from disparaging the stew and cornbread as "peasant fare." 

"But at least you're eating." Boromir noted. 

Faramir shook his head. "I eat. I don't know why the issue preoccupies you so. We can't all be built like great golden bears." 

"You have lost weight, ion-nin." Aragorn pointed out gently, preempting Boromir's likely pithier response. "I know that the sea does not trouble your appetite. Did the spices trouble you, in Umbar?" Faramir and Aragorn shared a violent allergy to several southron spices, including cardamom, aniseed, and the salty preservative known euphemistically as southern salt. 

Giving his father a grateful look, Faramir related, "Yes! We went through three different cooks before Eowyn could find a gentleman who understood that even the meat purchased for our household could not have been preserved with southern salt, elsewise it would make me sick." 

"I hope that you kept him for the new embassy." 

"Amrothos has guaranteed his continued employment." Faramir assured Aragorn. Prince Imrahil's youngest son had been left behind in Umbar, as the Reunited Kingdom's new ambassador to Umbar and Far Harad. 

"To answer your question, Brom." Faramir continued, "No, I had nothing to do with Dervorin's marriage. He's been in love with Sayyida bint Esmail for over a decade, but believed his cause to be hopeless. She was one of our merchant contacts in Harad, a valuable ally and a dear friend but dead-set against marrying anyone." 

"Valar bless her." Marveled Boromir with a snort, "She'll need their support, to be married to your troublesome best friend." 

"Sayyida...." Aragorn murmured, "Esmail's daughter....Aquila and Esmail's daughter?" He asked his son sharply. 

"Yes, I believe so." Answered Faramir, surprised, "Did you know her, Adar? From when you were Thorongil, and traveled to Umbar? She would have been no more than a child, then." 

"She was a child. Nine years old, if I recall correctly. Very spirited - Imrahil was a friend of her father's. Esmail led the anti-slavery league, in Umbar." 

"A dangerous occupation." Faramir noted, his gray eyes sympathetic and worried, for his old friend's new wife and her long-ago past. 

"Very." Aragorn agreed sadly. "I do not blame Mistress Sayyida for fearing marriage. After your Uncle Telemnar burned the slave guild of Umbar to the ground, freeing thousands of slaves, Sayyida let several of them hide in her parents' home. The then-Doge Alfeo got word of it, and Emir Faiz supported him in executing Esmail and his wife Aquila, and enslaving young Sayyida. Leaving her to that fate broke your Uncle Imrahil's heart, but it was all that we could do to keep your idiot uncle Telemnar's neck off the chopping block before we returned to Dol Amroth." 

"She survived." Faramir explained softly, "She is exquisitely beautiful and even more clever. She collected the secrets of the men who abused her, and used those secrets to win her liberty and a fortune. She had the wisdom to move to Near Harad, all the way into South Gondor, where the tolerance of Bey Bahadur protected her." 

"A wise woman." Aragorn commented, grateful beyond measure to hear that little Sayyida had found a happy ending. Leaving her in Umbar, in the clutches of such evil men, had nearly broken his heart, as well. Even though he'd been nearly three times Imrahil's age, and had not known Esmail or Aquila prior to that disastrous visit to Umbar. 

"Good." Commented Boromir, "Dervorin needs a wise woman. You could use one as well, little brother. Eowyn should never have gone to Umbar."

Aragorn agreed with that opinion, mostly, but if Eowyn hadn't gone to Umbar and taken Rochilien, Faramir might hale and whole of heart again. Seeing his son well again was enough to make the King forgive his beloved daughter-by-law almost anything. Still, "And she should not have taken Rochilien to Umbar." Aragorn scolded his son. 

Faramir busied himself with returning his plate to the sidebar and pouring himself a cup of herbal tea. "Rochilien loved Umbar." He said at last, neglecting to respond to his brother's and father's points. Aragorn could understand that - he had never wished to criticize Arwen in front of her father, or brothers. Thinking of his granddaughter and how much he missed her, Aragorn sighed and asked wistfully, "Did she? Love Umbar?" 

"Yes." Faramir said with a soft smile, fumbling for something in his belt pouch. Finding two medallions, he handed one each to Aragorn and Boromir. 

Aragorn carefully examined the object, a circle of softly shining white cold. He smiled when he saw the delicate hinges on the one side. It was a locket. Within he found two miniature portraits, one of Faramir with Eowyn and Rochilien their daughter, and one of Rochilien, Aragorn's granddaughter, by herself. 

The portrait of the three of them had been painted on a garden terrace with the sea behind. Little Rochilien, however, had been painted in the midst of delicate, colorful flowers in the garden. It was a delightful contrast, because Rochilien's temperament was not in the least delicate, but Aragorn hardly had eyes for the flowers. Rochilien was not smiling. She was, rather, giving the painter a quiet, determined, stubborn look. It was a very common expression for Rochilien, whenever she paused in thought or was trying to get something that she wanted. Probably, in this case, she wanted to be frolicking with the surprisingly large cat-like creature perched on her shoulder rather than posing for a portrait. Rochilien's serious blue-gray eyes revealed the gravity of a much older child, but the light within them let Aragorn knew that someone- probably Faramir or Eowyn- had almost persuaded her to smile. Rochilien's blond-brown curls were tumbled over just one shoulder, presumably to make room for the cat-like creature. It was hard for Aragorn to pull his eyes away from the image of his beautiful little granddaughter, but he did. 

"Thank you, ion-muin-nin," Aragorn told Faramir, blinking back tears of joy and sorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself, and all places were alike to him." - Rudyard Kipling

Boromir cleared his throat, and huskily added, "Yes, thank you, Fara." Boromir, too, lingered over the image of Rochilien. "I think I'd like a daughter. Baranor has great fun with Rochilien. It would be good for him and Veantur to have another playmate." 

"You should talk to your wife, I think." Aragorn advised fondly, before eyeing the creature in the painting with some concern. "Faramir, Rochilien's little furry companion here has very large paws, for it's size. What manner of creature is it?" The tufted ears, Aragorn noted absently, were quite cute, but the size of the sheathed claws hanging over Rochilien's collar bone were...worrying. 

"Haleth is a caracal kitten." Faramir said, with an air of resignation. "She will grow until she is about the size of the dogs our Dol Amroth cousins breed for retrieving waterfowl. She is a gift from Maryam, the wife of Emir Asad of Umbar." 

"Rochilien is bringing that thing here?" Boromir exclaimed. 

"Hmm. Yes." Said Faramir, with the air of one who didn't entirely like the idea, either, "Haleth the caracal, and Belemir the jungle cat. And the cheetah brothers Elros and Elrond, so named by Rochilien. All three likewise gifts from Queen Maryam and Emir Asad." 

Aragorn sighed. "Cheetahs, Faramir?" 

Eyes dancing, probably because he'd had longer to get accustomed to the idea, Faramir added, "Elros and Elrond are actually quite calm in temperament. Belemir and especially Haleth are somewhat less so, although they both adore Rochilien." Faramir grinned ruefully, "The cheetahs are also not cross-fertile with regular cats, although caracals and jungle cats both reputedly are." 

"Wonderful." Observed Boromir, as he shooed one of Faramir's cats away from the sideboard. 

"Hmm." Said Faramir, with the air of one who knew he'd just managed to get his brother's goat, despite ending up with a pack of cats he hadn't really wanted, "And Emir Asad has kindly offered to send us a nice female cheetah, for Rochilien's next birthday. He has no daughters, and was quite taken with ours. Still, I think it was a threat." 

"Almost certainly." Agreed Aragorn, who had known a much younger Asad. 

Faramir tilted his head and studied his father. "Emir Asad asked after you. In the same conversation, he told me that I reminded him of old captain Thorongil. I mentioned that we were related - kept it vague. I think he knows that you went by the name of Thorongil, once, and commanded the invasion that wiped out his father's and the Doge's fleet." 

"Which is fine." Noted Aragorn, "Perhaps even preferable. Asad is a good man. He distinguished himself well in that battle. Aye, he broke his ship apart ramming it into one of Imrahil's, but by doing so he saved four others. We rescued him and the other survivors, after, and exchanged them for men of ours whom Umbar had captured." 

"Asad said that Thorongil was a canny negotiator." Faramir related, still watching Aragorn closely. 

"That was more Imrahil." Aragorn explained, wishing that he had gone into a bit more detail about his past interactions with Asad before sending his son to Umbar, "Asad, and Bey Mahir and several others, helped us somewhat in securing a relatively light sentence for your uncle Telemnar, after the debacle he initiated with the slave guild."

Faramir nodded, before relating solemnly to his father and brother, "In Umbar, I met a monster with our aunt Lorias' pretty purple eyes." 

Lorias had been Imrahil's wife. Well Aragorn remembered Lorias' half-brother, who had been one of the men who had looked at the young Sayyida with cruel hunger in his eyes. "Ruggiero." Aragorn recalled the man's name, "An Oligarch of the corsairs, a scion of one of the hundred families. And an influential one, at that, if I recall." 

Faramir cast Aragorn an aggrieved look, "Your intelligence briefing was, at times, woefully incomplete, Adar muin nin." 

"It has been almost fifty years, Faramir." Aragorn replied, in mingled apology and reproach. In addition to that, detailed briefings had always been more Imrahil's strength than Aragorn's. Perhaps Aragorn should have waited for the Prince of Dol Amroth to return from his visit to Rohan before dispatching Faramir to Umbar...but to hesitate after receiving the invitation from Doge Baldassare and Emir Asad would have been rude. 

"Well, there were undoubtedly advantages to going into the situation with only my own preconceptions." said Faramir, as always graceful in accepting even a partial apology. 

"What was it like, Fara?" Boromir asked. Preempting his younger brother's detailed answer with a grin, the Steward clarified, "No, I mean, how was it, not what you managed to accomplish while there - even I understand that the treaty is good."

"It was...different. I have been there before, Umbar..." Faramir paused, thinking. 

Aragorn sighed. He had not know that. "Your intelligence briefing was lacking a bit as well, ion-nin." He scolded. 

"Surely I had mentioned that..." Faramir mumured. 

"No." Boromir agreed, shaking his head at his brother, "You did not." 

Likely, if Boromir and Aragorn reacted more calmly to the tales of Faramir's past adventures, Faramir might be more forthcoming. Arwen and Elladan had both made that point, and Aragorn made an effort to keep it in mind. Instead, the King asked, "But it was different, hmm? Traveling there as yourself?" 

"Yes." Faramir agreed, shooting his father a grateful look, both for the reprieve and the understanding. "I suppose... I understand more of what you meant, Adar, when you have said in the past that Thorongil's adventures seem to have happened to another person, at times. It was different. And less lonely, to be there with Amrothos, and then with Eowyn and Rochilien as well. Umbar is..beautiful, the people and the city. So different, but also lovely, the cool tiles and the singing fountains by the sea. Dusty, and hot, but alive. There are five times more people in Umbar, then there are in Minas Tirith." 

"Hmmph. But they're all savages, and the descendants of kinslayers." Boromir pointed out, almost offended by his brother's lack of criticism for the home-city of their long-time enemies. 

Aragorn was very glad that he did not usually have to rely upon Boromir's diplomacy, which, when it came to dealing with people outside Gondor's borders, was...spotty. Boromir liked and respected the Rohirrim, and he liked the hobbits, and the dwarves, and even most of the elves, but when it came to people from Arnor, Boromir still saw them as primitive. Southrons and the men of Rhun and Khand were savages. He'd gotten better since the start of the Quest, but many of Boromir's opinions were still those which he had formed at Denethor's knee. 

"They are just people, Brom." Faramir corrected, with the tolerant if tired patience of a man who trusted that his brother truly was a good man at heart, a man who just had trouble remembering certain things. It was a patience that Aragorn admired. 

"And our quarrel was rarely in truth with them," Faramir continued, "Sauron's agents stretched deep into the power structure of Harad and Umbar. And have, since before Numenor sank. The generations of damage and pain that has caused...we were lucky to be born in this country, you and I." 

Boromir appeared skeptical, but he was at least listening. 

"The poverty, the slavery...that was heart-breaking." Faramir related quietly, "More so, in some ways, since before I could never let myself react to it. But the people themselves were by-and-large kind, and good, and generous even when they had almost nothing. Brave, even when the cost of bravery was high. Their temples....they do not worship Eru, at least not by that name. But the gods and goddesses they do worship...they mostly embody admirable virtues. Charity, strength, courage...I do not know as Eru and the Valar objected so much to the worship of other powers, as they did to the dreadful things which were done in the name of such false gods. The temples of the Haradrim and Umbarans offer sanctuary and care to all, as do their priests and veiled priestesses. They feed the hungry and educate children and slaves. Our own priests are well worthy of respect, but more often concerned with loftier, more scholarly pursuits." 

"Charity and education does sound more useful." Boromir agreed, clearly going outside of his comfort zone in an attempt to be fair to Umbar, for his brother's sake. 

"It is an interesting thought, dear son." Aragorn agreed, "You should discuss it with Elladan. Theology is more his area of interest." 

Faramir smiled wryly, "To hear Elrohir tell it, heresy is more Elladan's area." 

"Please don't ask him theology questions when I can't escape the conversation, Fara." Boromir asked with a pained expression, "Or any other question, for that matter. If I never hear a lecture on the development of rot-resistant parchment again, it will be too soon." 

"Afraid that something might actually sink into your rock-head, my brother?" Faramir teased. 

Aragorn slapped his son's thigh gently, "Enough of that, ion-nin. Tell us more of your travels instead." 

"Did Eowyn wear a veil?" Boromir asked, with a good-natured grin. Aragorn had to share a smile at the very thought. 

"Sometimes." Faramir answered, "It depended on what point she was trying to make, at the time. She...well, I could not have done as well as I did, in reaching a treaty with the Haradrim and Corsairs, had she not been with me. She made friends with the wives and daughters of the Emir, the Mirzas, the Beys, the Doge, and the Oligarchs. She went into the temples dedicated to the gods and goddesses of healing, and made connections there that I never could." Faramir smiled apologetically at Aragorn as he related that last, "Despite your best efforts, Adar, I am afraid that I will never be much more than a competent battle-field healer." 

"You are better than you give yourself credit for." Aragorn scolded his son, "And you need not apologize that my calling is not your own." 

Faramir conceded that, or at least seemed to, and moved on to, "Eowyn liked Umbar, as well. Not all of it, but...she as well as I, we can understand how one could grow to love it there." 

"Then you saw it more clearly than I." Aragorn related softly. 

"Aunt Lorias saw the same." Boromir recalled, "Both she and Uncle Imrahil spoke very well of the people of Umbar, in the main. And specifically of Master Ilario, who was that foul spider Oligarch Efisio's own son." 

All three men paused a moment to consider that. Efisio had been the master-mind behind a number of dark plots which had survived the fall of Sauron. It had not precisely been a surprise to Aragorn that men could be evil without inspiration and influence from their ages-old enemy Sauron. But it had been somewhat of a disappointment that they could be so very evil, nonetheless. And for no better apparent reason than the accumulation of power. It had never been proven - and probably could not be proven - but Aragorn and Imrahil, and Lorias, had all suspected that Efisio had his own son put to death, for the crimes of Ilario's having indirectly warned Imrahil of a plot to invade Dol Amroth, and for his having spoken against Telemnar's death. 

Deciding that he had enough of such dark thoughts, Aragorn turned his attention to Faramir. Smiling proudly, he praised, "You did exceptionally well for us, ion-nin, in Umbar. The draft and precis and reports you sent ahead of the treaty were very heartening. You had mentioned possible last-moment alterations - what did end up in the final form of the treaty?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the sort-of cliffhanger at the end of this chapter - there wasn't a good chapter break. The next part is written, I will post it shortly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote: 
> 
> "History keeps her secrets longer than most of us. But she has one secret that I will reveal to you tonight in the greatest confidence. Sometimes there are no winners at all. And sometimes nobody needs to lose." - John LeCarre 
> 
>  
> 
> Excerpt from Previous Chapter: 
> 
> "Deciding that he had enough of such dark thoughts, Aragorn turned his attention to Faramir. Smiling proudly, he praised, "You did exceptionally well for us, ion-nin, in Umbar. The draft and precis and reports you sent ahead of the treaty were very heartening. You had mentioned possible last-moment alterations - what did end up in the final form of the treaty?'"

Faramir took a deep breath, his gray eyes sparkling with that quiet fire. 'Good,' thought Aragorn to himself, first as father and then as King, 'He's pleased with himself, for what he has accomplished with this." More than pleased, in fact. Aragorn eyed him closely, intrigued. Boromir, who knew Faramir, too, also sat up in his seat and focused his attention on his younger brother. 

"Most of the tariff rates and accommodations are as we discussed." Faramir began, "The worst of the later changes is that we did not get the lower tariff rate we had hoped for on imports of coffee and fragrances." Faramir confessed sadly, though this eyes still glistened. Aragorn was quite certain that Faramir was at least a little truly sorry for that specific shortfall. Faramir often preferred coffee to tea, although neither he nor Eowyn had any interest in perfume. 

"And," Faramir continued, "We conceded to lower our tariff rate on our exports of timber for masts a bit further than we had expected, and I agreed - on Boromir's behalf - to limited exports of Lethron saplings." 

"You did what!" Boromir snapped. Lebethron wood was famed for the quality of the wooden weapons which could be crafted from it, the bows and staffs and spear shafts. 

"Calmly, other-son." Aragorn urged Boromir, putting a hand on his Steward's shoulder, before turning to his smirking son, "So what is the good news, ion-nin?," He asked Faramir with some asperity. 

"The treaty provides for a five percent tariff on spices, across the board." Faramir told them. 

Aragorn laughed aloud, and clapped Boromir on the back. "So much for Lord Sendar cornering the market on nutmeg - with the tariff so low, every trader with a wagon will be able to offer a competitive rate, at least along the coastlines and the southern border!" 

Catching on to that, Boromir shook his head with a smile of his own, "Well-done, baby-brother. Well-done indeed. But what makes you think that I am willing to let you take lebethron wood from MY princedom to sell to men whom we may well be facing across a battlefield again in a few seasons?" He concluded sternly. 

"There is that...." Faramir replied, with a half-smile, "But in exchange we received a number of other concessions...and assurances." 

Aragorn wanted to tell his son to just spit it out already, but Faramir was having too much fun, so he held his tongue. And he held onto Boromir's shoulder, as Faramir explained, "The Haradrim agreed to lower their tariffs on cotton and sugar to the favorable rate whcih they impose on Umbar..." Which was Harad's closest trading ally, as odd and interdependent as the relationship was between the city, Umbar, which was ruled by the Corsairs, and Far-Harad the country, where the Emir who ruled all of Far Harad was a guest in his own capital city of Umbar. 

"That is an excellent result, my Faramir." Aragorn praised, shaking Boromir lightly before his Steward could interrupt to complain about the Lebethron wood again. 

"And both Doge Baldassare and Emir Asad conceded to entirely abolish tariffs on the trade of all medicinal herbs, provided that we of Gondor and Arnor do the same." Faramir continued. 

For Aragorn, that was enough to outweigh the concession on the lebethron wood. 

For Boromir, not so much, "Having our healers well-supplied will be scant comfort when we are being pelted by arrows from bows made from our own wood!" He berated Faramir. 

"There is that." Faramir agreed again, pulling a rolled parchment out of his tunic. "However, I think their agreement to commit to joint anti-piracy patrols, and cooperate in mutual defense and intelligence sharing in respect of bandit activity as well as lingering plots and agents of Efisio's, and the movements and plans of the magicians in Rhun, should rather outbalance that." 

Speechless, Aragorn gestured for the parchment. Faramir handed it to him. Aragorn unrolled it and began reading, shaking his head all the while. "How in the name of all the Valar did you get them to agree to this, my dear Faramir?" Aragorn could scarcely believe it, but there it was, quite clearly in writing, and marked with the signatures and seals of the Emir of Far Harad and the Doge of Umbar. 

"But can we trust them not to start aiming their weapons at us?" Boromir asked, now genuinely concerned and uncertain rather than angry. 

Faramir shrugged. "Can we ever? Will we ever be able to trust them? Trust has to start somewhere. Small-scale anti-piracy sweeps, and patrols searching for bandits, is not a bad way for us to test their faith, and they ours." 

"No it's not." Aragorn murmured thoughtfully, "Our numbers in those patrols can be equal to theirs." 

Beginning to consider the matter with his excellent tactician's mind, Boromir realized, "And we could have larger patrols placed near by, and messengers set to leave for reinforcements if the Haradrim pulled anything." 

"They will probably be doing the same." Aragorn recognized, "But we have more men and more flexibility." 

"The pirates and the bandits do need to be dealt with. And better with the Haradrim, elsewise the outlaws would just be dashing across the border to evade justice." Boromir noted, obviously warming to the idea. 

"I thought it worth the risk, and the lebethron." Faramir said softly. "I hoped that you would both agree, otherwise..." Faramir smiled wryly, "It would probably have been my last trip abroad as your ambassador, Adar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave feedback if you are so inspired! I apologize for the pseudo-cliffhanger, again. I do assure you that Boromir and Faramir are both pleased with Faramir's diplomacy - at least, mostly!


	6. Chapter 6

Boromir snorted. "I wish that I could say that you had not done well, with this, Fara. But, as with most else you do, you've outdone yourself, and Ada Aragorn is going to let you go skipping back off to Harad, or to Rhun to solidfy the alliance between their Chieftains to oppose the magic-users, or to whatever other cursed-dangerous place it pleases you to explore. Just like father let you run off into Harad as a no-name merchant, when you would have been tortured and killed had they ever found out who you were." 

"Boromir, other-son, really...." Aragorn exclaimed in exasperation, "I would do no such thing! Faramir went at Umbar's express invitation, and it was not until our own spies and messengers confirmed that his ship had safely left Umbar harbor that we released Emir Asad's nephews and cousins, who were our own hostages against Faramir's safe return to us." 

"Ada Aragorn most certainly has not approved of my risking my life, as a general rule, Boromir." Faramir pointed out, blushing a bit, probably in memory of how his last foray as a spy had ended, or perhaps at the memorable paddling he'd received after their army arrived back to Minas Tirith after defeating the Easterlings. 

Boromir smirked at his brother. "No, I suppose he hasn't. Still, I....I worry about you." 

"You both do." Faramir said, affectionate and grateful and peevish, all at once, "I wish that you'd stop. Or at least moderate it." 

Aragorn and Boromir shared a look of exasperation and one of their moments of perfect understanding. "When you demonstrate a better care for your own skin, then Boromir and I will stop worrying about you quite so much." Aragorn offered. 

Faramir leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. It was the Faramir-equivalent of crossing his arms and sulking. "You're both overprotective. I am a grown man, you do both realize that, don't you?" He said in a reasonable tone of voice. Aragorn assumed that such a tone had worked very well for Faramir in Umbar. It would not work with his father and older brother, who exchanged exasperated looks. 

Boromir and Aragorn started to speak at the same time. Both paused, and Boromir unexpectedly gestured for Aragorn to continue. 

"Well, my dear grown young man, what was it that you did to inspire the Emir and the Doge and their respective officers to sign on to such an impressive accord?" Aragorn asked. 

Faramir stiffened, but only ever so slightly. 

"Faramir!" Boromir snapped, leaping to the same conclusion as Aragorn. That Faramir had done something foolish and dangerous, yet probably also clever and brave, to impress the foreign potentates. 

Aragorn merely sighed. "Do tell us, ion-nin. Spare me the excitement of having to learn from happenstance, and Magordan the trial of my inquiry." 

It was Faramir's turn to sigh. "I was going to get into that, really..." 

"Because you are so very forthcoming when you've done something you know that I will not approve of." Aragorn scolded, at the same time Boromir erupted. 

"Curse it all, Faramir!" The Steward cried, before turning to Aragorn, "Now you see again why I was against this! Left to his own devices, Faramir just goes off and does whatever idiotic thing occurs to him! And you sent him to Umbar!" 

"Boromir, please do be calm." Aragorn urged. 

At the same time Faramir -who clearly had some kind of a death wish or at the very least feared his brother's wrath not in the slightest - said in exasperation, "Your faith in me is truly touching, brother." 

To Aragorn's surprise, Boromir actually calmed down, "Now, Fara, don't be like that." Boromir soothed reassuringly,"You know that I do trust you - and have faith in you, as a commander. I just don't have faith in you to evaluate risk, when it comes to your own skin." 

Faramir's grey eyes, so like Aragorn's own, looked up at his brother gratefully. Which made Aragorn reproach himself, for not realizing that Boromir's lack of faith had hurt his brother. Faramir had not just been irritated or exasperated - he had been hurt. Aragorn forgot, sometimes, that Faramir did have insecurities. Faramir knew himself to be competent at most things, and in any case preferred not to dwell in his doubts. But despite that, he had always held himself in his golden brother's shadow. Aragorn - aye, and Boromir, too - had been working to change that. But thirty-three years of standing in the shadows could not be entirely cured by a mere handful of years in the light. 

Taking advantage of the silence, Faramir began his explanation. "It was Eowyn who saved the situation, really. Her, and Sayyida, and Dev, for having thought to contact Sayyida. Before he died, Oligarch Tusco..."

"A supporter of Oligarch Efisio." Aragorn explained quietly, for Boromir's benefit. 

"Oh, HIM again...." Boromor growled. 

"Tusco had convinced the new Doge, Baldassare, that you, Adar-nin, might also be under the sway of Efisio's allies in Rhun." Faramir continued. 

"What?" Exclaimed both Aragorn and Boromir at once, Boromir more loudly. 

"Aragorn, the creature of the Blue Sorcerors' students?" Boromir continued, too incredulous to even be angry. 

"It makes a certain amount of sense, from the perspective of someone who knows neither Aragorn nor the northern Dunedain of lost Arnor." Faramir explained resignedly, "Aragorn's grandmother Ivorwen..." 

"Your great-grandmother." Pointed out Aragorn quietly. 

Faramir nodded in acceptance of that, before continuing, "Was a famous seeress. So was our own mother, Brom. Easy to believe that they were wizard's pupils." 

"Our mother was." Boromir conceded, "But she was Mithrandir's student, not a heretic blood-monger's apprentice." 

"In any case," Faramir explained,"whatever the reasoning behind the lie, Baldassare felt that he must consider whether it might be truth. He was reluctant to enter into true negotations with us. Certainly nothing that would put his own people at risk by association." 

"I...can understand that. I do not remember him as well as I do some of the others, from Telemnar's trial." Aragorn said. 

"He is a quiet man. He was elected Doge more because no one else was acceptable to sufficient numbers of the Oligarchs, then because he is thought of as a man to be followed. I think..." Faramir paused, "I think that he is overcautious and inclined to hestiate, but for all of that, he seems a good and responsible leader. Nevertheless, he did not trust us, and so the diplomatic proceedings were stalled. We were bickering back and forth over the price of cotton and apples." 

Boromir yawned, even just contemplating that. Aragorn's mouth and Faramir's twisted into the same half-smile, before Faramir continued, "As we moved into day three of talking about the labor-intensive nature of cotton-harvesting and our kingdoms' willingness to pay a higher price if medical care was provided to the slaves assisting with the planting, I received...a request." Faramir paused. 

Aragorn waited patiently, and then kicked Boromir's ankle when he looked as if he would snap at Faramir to get to the point, already. 

"The Doge's younger son, Gian," Faramir continued pensively, "He lost an arm at the Pelargir. He has...had troubles, with gimlinzi. Alcohol as well, but the gimlinzi use is worse, much worse, and of course more worrying to his family and friends."

"Gimlinzi?" Boromir inquired, confused. 

"Silver-dust." Aragorn supplied, "Or celevith, in Sindarin." 

Silver-dust was a very powerful and highly addictive stimulant and mood elevator. Its effects were similar to maca mixed with lendrestil, but much stronger, and more debilitating and addictive, than either. 

"Ah." Said Boromir, nodding in sad understanding. One of Faramir's few surviving rangers had become a slave to silver-dust in the wake of the Ring War. Boromir had turned a blind eye -as had Aragorn - to the rangers sending the young man to sea to recover, rather than arresting him. The use and sale of silver-dust were both illegal, in Gondor. And in Arnor, Rohan, Imladris, Lindon, Lothlorien, Greenwood, Dale, and Umbar. But not in Harad, Khand, or the Black Lands. Aragorn wasn't sure about Rhun. Faramir or Imrahil would probably know. 

"He - Gian - had become addicted to a unique mixture of gimlinzi and poppy crystals. One which we were able to prove was being purveyed by a Haradrim merchant, a man in Oligarch Ruggiero's pay." Faramir continued. 

Aragorn winced, as did Boromir. 

"I had not even realized that anyone would be fool enough - or cruel enough - to make and peddle such a dark concoction." Aragorn noted sadly. 

"The orcs use it." Faramir explained sorrowfully. 

At the same time Boromir accused, "Faramir and Dervorin used to sell it." 

"Our spies still do." Faramir replied, regarding his brother patiently. "Peddling it to the remaining orc tribes is how we keep track of what they are up to. We have been lowering the potency of it as much as we can without risking the lives of our merchant-spies, and trying to transition into other goods, but it is the one thing that the orcs will reliably permit strangers into their midst to buy." 

"I didn't know that." Aragorn commented with a frown, not sure if he really approved, or if they should continue to do so. But even more troubled to have once had his own son in close proximity to such a drug, let alone to orcs. Faramir had come near-enough to being addicted to lendrestil, or the Dol Amroth equivalent thereof, during and then again just after the war. Aragorn did not particulalry like to put him in the way of temptation. 

Neither, apparently, did Boromir. "You better not have touched that poison, since you stopped playing the spy, Faramir." He warned his brother. 

"Boromir," Replied Faramir in exasperation, "I never did even try it. I've never even taken silver-dust, either, and we sold that, too." 

"How did you manage that?" Boromir asked, relieved and interested. "Given the circles you ran in. I know that Dervorin's dosed himself with it, for starters." 

"Dev is more adventurous than I, and he only did so after he'd been given some accidentally in Umbar." Faramir explained, "Most often, when we found ourselves in a situation where it would have seemed odd not to partake, we shook the drugs up our sleeve and wiped a little chalk dust mixed with mica powder onto our faces. We all carried a bit of that, in the hidden compartment of a ring. If we knew that we'd be expected to deal with silver-dust, or nist - that's what the orcs called the poppy-and-gimlinzi mixture, then we went prepared." 

"Still, I don't like it that you were ever around that type of thing." Boromir lectured. It looked to be just the start of the lecture. Aragorn didn't disagree with Boromir, but what Faramir might have been around years ago wasn't really at issue, so he prepared himself to derail the Steward in favor of finding out what Faramir had been up to with the son of the Doge more recently. 

Faramir beat him to it. "An interesting position for you to take, dear brother. I've never even been tempted to try silverdust, let alone nist. But I recall that you and Galdoron and Tavasond all did, back in the day." 

"What!?" Aragorn snapped incredulously, turning his attention to Boromir. 

"It was just once." Boromir said defensively, blushing. "Just to try it. It was Tav's idea." 

"Sweet Valar, Boromir! What a cursed foolish thing to do!" Aragorn lectured. It really had been. Silver-dust was famous for making addicts out of even strong men after just one night. 

Boromir mumbled something which was either, "yes, of course, you're right," or an aspersion. 

Aragorn just shook his head again. "What did Denethor say?" He asked in morbid fascination, forgetting for once his normal rule not to mention Denethor at all if he could help it. 

"Thankfully for Brom, he never found out about it." Faramir said. "Father - Lord Denethor, that is - would have killed Brom. Even though he loved him." 

"Not killed me." Boromir corrected, rueful and gentle, "But he would have made me wish that I was dead." 

"I would have made you wish that you were dead!" Aragorn warned him, "And I still will do, you or Faramir, if either of you are ever foolish enough to experiment with such a substance!" 

Boromir and Faramir both stared at him for a moment, before blushing and nodding. With an elder-brotherly smirk, Boromir attempted to reassert control of the situation again by reminding Faramir, "Ada Aragorn's warning goes for lendrestil as well, Faramir." 

"Oh, really?" Faramir teased wryly, "And here I thought that I might take up chewing maca root as an alternative." 

"I would recommend against it, my Faramir." Aragorn teased back, with a fond smile for his son, "Besides being similar to lendrestil, it will turn your teeth brown." 

"Best not, then." Faramir agreed, with a smile of his own, before sobering again. "Eowyn and the Emir's healer used doses of lendrestil to help Gian wean himself away from the gimlinzi and the poppy, but that was after. At the time - the third day of the interminable cotton discussion - I was very glad to have the meetings over, and to have returned to our rented palazzo by the sea. I was surprised, if hopeful, to receive a message from Gian, just after Rochilien went to bed, saying that he wanted to meet. I had told him earlier of my friend Ranger Arradon, and his troubles after the war." Faramir explained, "And I'd offered to help Gian get away from the influence of the nish and the gimlinzi. At the time I made that offer, during a break from one of the conferences where it had been sadly clear to Amrothos and to myself that he was under the influence of something potent, I had not expected him to take me up on it. Yet, Gian's message clearly stated that he was to meet with the merchant who had been selling him the drugs, and would be grateful if I could come with him and help him to end that relationship." Faramir gave his father an uncertain look, "I had also agreed to pay the debt that he owed the merchant, to aid him with breaking his drug habit without fear of retribution." 

Boromir snorted and murmured something along the lines of, "Of course you did." 

Aragorn was more concerned with whether his son had actually gone off to meet a dangerous drug-dealing merchant in an unsavory part of Umbar with only the Doge's young, one-armed, drug-addicted son as a companion. "I'll pay your debts, Faramir, and trust you to pledge our coin wisely." Aragorn said softly, then asked, "And did you go to meet Gian?" 

"Why do you even have to ask?" Boromir exclaimed loudly, "It was a noble, stupid, generous, kind, dangerous, reckless, idiotic thing to do! He's Faramir, so of course he went and did it!" 

Faramir frowned at his brother. 

"Ion-nin?" Asked Aragorn sternly. 

"Well, yes, I did go to meet Gian, as I had offered." Faramir answered, seeming imperious to the paternal and fraternal disapproval that confession engendered, "However, I did take Halrandir and two of my other guards along as well." 

"Thank the Valar for small mercies, I suppose." Aragorn murmured, thinking to himself that he really much have a talk with Halrandir. A memorable and uncomfortable one, for Halrandir. 

"You should fire Halrandir, Ada Aragorn." Boromir said, glaring at Faramir. 

"If Halrandir had not been with us, then I might have had to go alone, Boromir!" Faramir snapped, driven apparently beyond patience, "I could trust Halrandir to come and guard my back. Magordan might have locked me in my room!" 

"Good, that's what he should have done!" Boromir roared back. "It's his job to keep you safe, baby brother, even from yourself!" 

Aragorn kept his own council, thinking. Faramir shook his head, "It may well be, but if Magordan had locked me in my room I could have escaped over the balcony or through the roof. And I would have - I made a promise, and I trusted Gian!" 

"And did you trust the silver-dust addling his mind?" Aragorn asked quietly, preempting another explosive response from Boromir. 

Faramir sighed, and conceded that point. "I did not, hence Halrandir and his fellows. And a warning to Eowyn and Amrothos to be on the alert, and to Dervorin, who stayed with them. And hence also the urchins and other agents of Dervorin's who stayed within sight and shouting distance of us as we made our way to the easternmost section of the port." 

Aragorn winced, for that had once been a very disreputable part of Umbar. Carefully keeping his calm, he asked Faramir, "And what did you find, when you arrived there?" 

"Gian. But with a Haradrim merchant's knife at his throat, and an entire pot of nish about to be forced into him." Faramir told them, remembered horror in his eyes. 

Aragorn took a deep breath to calm himself, well able to picture his son in that danger, facing such a terrible sight. A spoonful of silver-dust mixed with poppy might be enough to kill someone, let alone a potful. And no one would ever know that Gian hadn't accidentally killed himself, if Faramir and his men hadn't lived to tell the tale. 

Faramir met his father's eyes and then continued, "I arrived just before a squad of Haradrim warriors on horseback, led by Mirza Hadi and his sworn-brother Bey Rabi. They had been told that I was planning to kidnap Gian, to try to force better tariff rates from his father the Doge." 

"That's ridiculous!" Boromir objected, "Surely they can't imagine that you would offer violence to anyone over apples or fabric or even my lebethron wood!" 

"Again, dear brother, they do not know me well." Faramir reminded Boromir, "So, to them, it seemed possible. If unlikely, given how I had presented myself during our acquaintance up until that point. In any case, given word that a man who is their friend was being threatened by a man who not more than a few years ago faced them all with sword-drawn across a battlefield, Mirza Hadi and Bey Rabi hastened to assure that Gian would be safe." 

"They were supposed to arrive well after you, and be cut down themselves, were they not, Fara-nin?" Aragorn asked, his heart clenching with the worry for the danger that his Faramir had been in, while Aragorn and everyone else who might have aided him were half a world away. 

"You deduce correctly, Adar." Faramir said gravely, "The Haradrim Prince and his men were to have arrived after we had already been killed, and then been cut down themselves by archers who had mis-fitting Gondorian arrows for their Haradrim recurve bows." 

"Treachery!" Exclaimed Boromir. 

"Oh, Faramir." Murmured Aragorn, appalled by what would have resulted if the second-son of the Doge, the heir to Far-Harad, and an influential Bey's heir had all been found dead, and his Faramir their apparent killer. 

"Treachery most foul." Concurred Faramir, with a slight rueful smile. "But fortunately, Rochilien had not been minded to go to bed that night." 

Aragorn had to suppress a smile at that, even as serious as the topic was. His granddaughter Rochilien, so far as Aragorn could remember, had never fancied going to bed. 

"So we were running a bit late." Faramir continued, "Late enough that Hadi and Rabi arrived to find myself, Halrandir, and our guards and a few of our agents all with weapons drawn, doing our best to outflank Merchant Nizar and his men in order to rescue Gian. Hadi and Rabi and their soldiers came to our aid. We did manage to liberate Gian, although both myself and Rabi got a lungful of the nish." 

"Faramir...." Aragorn said softly, unable to stop himself from going to sit beside his son and place a hand on Faramir's shoulder. 

"It was alright, Ada, really." Faramir assured him, placing a hand on top of Aragorn's own and squeezing reassuringly. "It was not very much, and what I did not sneeze away immediately I vomited up not more than an hour later." 

"The poppy...." realized Boromir, "There is poppy as well as silver-dust in nish, and you're allergic to the poppy." 

"Violently so." Remembered Aragorn, moving his hand to stroke Faramir's back, "We both are." 

Faramir nodded, "Rabi and I, and even Gian, were alright at first - it takes a little while for nish to take affect. Which was fortunate, as the archers came out of concealment and let loose their arrows upon us all. We ended up taking refuge under a wagon, but how long we could have lasted I do not know. We were outnumbered nearly three to one." 

"This merchant Nizar was leaving nothing to chance." Aragorn observed, as his heart stopped again. "On whose orders was he acting, to kill a prince and two high lords, and to frame another prince?" 

"Oligarch Ruggiero's, or Oligarch Tusco's, we think. Although it could not be proven." Faramir answered solemnly. "There was enough evidence to cast doubt upon both of them, which ended up being helpful later on." 

"Do continue, ion-nin. I did not mean to interrupt." Aragorn encouraged. 

"Well, fortunately, our long-time contact and friend Sayyida is the cousin of Lady Grazia...." 

"Who?" Asked Boromir, frowning in concentration. 

"Grazia is the wife of Lord Casamiro, who is the second cousin of Oligarch Ruggiero and also Ruggiero's heir, as he has no closer male kin." Faramir explained patiently. "Grazia is also the daughter of Master Orazio, another merchant, and his wife Isotta." 

"Orazio, I remember." Aragorn put in, "He helped us bribe the temple of their God of Healing, to argue at Telemnar's trial that alcohol was to blame for his burning down the slave guild." 

"Orazio, being Sayyida's uncle, eventually became a spy of Uncle Imrahil's in Umbar, although that is not generally known." Faramir explained, "And Mistress Isotta was the daughter of Bey Rahim." 

"Another Bey who fought at the Black Gate. A good man, though, for all he served an evil one." Aragorn said quietly, for Boromir's benefit. Faramir had an archivist's memory, and could keep all of these people straight. Aragorn had been trained by the scholars at Imladris, and had known a number of the Umbarans and Haradrim from his own visits there. Boromir was a bit at sea, as the Dol Amroth men would say. 

"Yes." Agreed Faramir sadly, "So, Grazia told Sayyida that Ruggiero was plotting something with Merchant Nizar, something so significant that Ruggiero needed to take out a significant loan in order to pay Nizar for whatever it was. Dervorin had sent Sayyida a message, saying that I had gone to meet Patriz Gian, to support him in brreaking off his business relationship with Merchant Nizar. Sayyida put two and two together, and sent Grazia rushing off to warn her cousin, Bey Salil, one of the Emir's closest advisors, of this incipient plot. Sayyida herself sent a message back to Dev and Eowyn, then hastened to beg an audience with Micola bint Saiful, who is Doge Baldassare's much-beloved mistress and long-time lover. Amrothos met her there, and they were able to persuade Baldassare and his older son Sarceno of the danger to their son and brother, and that I was myself in danger for going to his aid." 

"I'm going to need you to make me a chart to keep track off all of these different people, Fara. Especially the women - I don't even really understand how they fit in." Boromir said with a frown. 

Aragorn waved him to silence, and nodded to Faramir to continue. 

Faramir obliged, although it was clear to Aragorn that what his son really wanted to do was give his brother a lecture on the importance of the role women played in politics. Still, he gamely explained, "Micola and Baldassare sent their older son, Lord Sarceno, and half their guard after Gian. Amrothos rode with them. Bey Salil and Eowyn - who had gone with Rochilien to appeal to the Emir's wife Maryam - convinced Emir Asad to send half of his guard and also Bey Ghassan, who does not favor Gondor but is Bey Rabi's older brother, after their Prince and Lord Rabi. Dervorin sent Magordan and the rest of my guard after us, and between one group and another they managed to arrive in time."

"Well, thank the Valar for that at least." Boromir said huskily. 

Aragorn himself did not know what to say, for a moment. He just squeezed Faramir's shoulder. Faramir's eyes met his, and Aragorn could see the echo of how scared Faramir must have been, at that time. 

"Nizar took his own life rather than be arrested." Faramir told them, his own voice a bit unsteady. "Some of his men died in the melee, but enough lived to testify that he was in Ruggiero's pay to make the Doge transfer his suspicion to Ruggiero and Efisio's other supporters." 

"I want our eyes on them, as well." Aragorn said tightly. 

"Of course, Ada." Faramir answered, gray eyes surprised. Aragorn felt only a little bad about that. Faramir's perspective on the matter might be that of course he and Dervorin had arranged surveillance for Oligarch Ruggiero, and probably Oligarch Tusco as well. Aragorn was glad of that, he was, but his perspective was more that his son should have known better than to have gone off into what was certain to be an unsafe situation, even if he couldn't have predicted it would be a trap, so of course Aragorn needed to verify that he'd thought to arrange this. 

"I want them dead." Boromir said harshly. 

"Patience, other-son." Aragorn counseled. 

"But, Aragorn!" Boromir protested. 

"Boromir, they nearly succeeded in killing my son and your brother," Aragorn said harshly, "as well as the heir to Far Harad and a son of the Doge! I am quite sure that Ruggiero and his co-conspirators are also under careful scrutiny by men who know that city much better than we! But we cannot kill them, that right would be more properly their own ruler's." 

"He is right, brother." Faramir agreed softly, relieved. The relief irritated Aragorn, reminded him of his son's dangerous- and nearly fatal - recklessness. 

Partly because it was true, and partially to remind Faramir that he was not clear of fault in this matter, Aragorn added, "At the least, we cannot kill them yet. Now, if they try again...." 

Boromir and Aragorn exchanged a tight smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I ended up cutting this chapter into two parts. It has turned into one of the longest dialogues I've ever written. I hope that it is enjoyable anyway!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from end of previous chapter: 
> 
> Partly because it was true, and partially to remind Faramir that he was not clear of fault in this matter, Aragorn added, "At the least, we cannot kill them yet. Now, if they try again...." 
> 
> Boromir and Aragorn exchanged a tight smile.

Faramir stood up and strode to the other side of the room, his frustration clear, at least to Aragorn, and probably also to Boromir. The younger man was not obviously perturbed - Faramir could keep a serious, blank face with the best of them. But he was upset. Aragorn wanted to tell him to calm down, or alternatively demand what in the name of the Valar Faramir was thinking, to be upset at the thought of villains who had threatened him with death being killed themselves. After Faramir had nearly died....

"Difficult brat!" Boromir commented, getting up to pursue his pacing brother. 

"Give him a moment." Aragorn countermanded, putting up a hand and then gently resting it on Boromir's arm. 

Faramir gave them both an exasperated look. "I had to have this same conversation with Emir Asad, Bey Ghassan, and Lord Sarceno!" 

It wasn't funny, but Aragorn had to chuckle a bit anyway. "Was Doge Baldassare more even-headed, then?" 

"Hah!" Faramir laughed lightly, "He was." 

"Explain it for your brother, then, ion-nin. But do keep in mind that if something similar happens again, to you or Amrothos or any of our kin in Umbar town, then wise or not, the matter WILL be dealt with." 

Faramir paused by the mantel, the flickering flames illuminating his slender, rangy frame. Looking a thing fey and immortal, he said, "Boromir, the enemy that we know of, we can predict. We can watch. In the past month since the attempt on Gian's life, we've learned more about who might have worked for Oligarch Efisio and who might now be working for his allies - the dark wizards in Rhun - and more about what they might be up to, then we have in all the time since your former squire first came to us and told us that there was someone pulling strings from Umbar." 

"This Ruggiero tried to kill you, Faramir!" Boromir snapped. 

"I was there, thank you." Faramir answered dryly. 

"Faramir!" Boromir scolded. 

Aragorn was entirely sympathetic to his Steward's frustration. He was fighting an urge to shake Faramir, as well. Time to remind Faramir that he was loved, and that this was hard for his family to hear. "No treaty concession would be worth losing you, my Faramir." Aragorn rumbled quietly, getting to his feet and walking slowly to his son's side. "I would rather go to war again, than lose you." He said levelly, knowing that Faramir would know it for truth. 

"Adar," Faramir began in shock, "That is...." 

"Unconscionable, I know." Aragorn agreed with a crooked smile, pulling Faramir into his arms. A gesture of affection that Faramir allowed, leading Aragorn to believe that his son truly did know how much danger he had been in, and that his display of not caring was just that - a display. To protect his dignity, to protect his confidence - Aragorn wasn't sure exactly why. But there would be some reason. Cupping the back of his son's head, one of his fingers tangling in the plain leather tie half-holding a section of red-gold hair back from Faramir's face, Aragorn said softly, "I have survived war, and deprivation, and destiny, and I will not lose you, if it can be prevented." 

"We won't lose you, my dear idiot brother." Boromir agreed, coming over and starting to put an arm around his brother, before hesitating. Aragorn did not hesitate, he used his other arm to pull Boromir close to him. Embracing both of the brothers, he softly promised them, "I would fight the Enemy again to protect either of you." Smiling as they stared at him, gray eyes and blue-gray eyes fond and touched, Aragorn cupped Boromir's cheek with one hand. 

"For you," He told the other brother, "That means, in part, that I want you to learn to hold your tongue, and think before you speak." 

"But I do think before I...." Boromir began to object, disgruntled, before realizing "Oh." 

Faramir chuckled lightly. Aragorn smiled again at both of them. He patted Boromir's cheek, "Case in point, other-son. Listen and think before you speak. Our Faramir may seem heedless to us, but he usually has his reasons, and they are most often good ones." 

Turning a firm look upon his son and heir-presumptive, Aragorn said sternly, "And you, dear Faramir, need to learn to communicate with us, instead of running off on your own." 

"I....I know." Faramir answered breathlessly, meeting Aragorn's eyes, and meaning his answer. 'At least in that moment,' Aragorn thought to himself ruefully. He moved his hand to Faramir's shoulder and shook the younger man gently. "I will hold you to that. And we are not done with this discussion, but I believe that I can guess most of the rest of what happened in Umbar." 

"Go ahead, then, Ada." Faramir invited, suppressing a smile, "Tell me what I spent the last few weeks doing." 

"Cheeky." Scolded Aragorn, but he was smiling as he did so. Pouring Faramir another cup of tea and handing Boromir another glass of wine, the King theorized, "After knowing that you had gone at your own peril to aid young Patriz Gian, Doge Baldassare and his older son Sarceno, did more than just transfer their suspicions away from you and our Kingdoms. They were willing to enter into negotiations in truth, as were Emir Asad and his Beys." 

"A fair enough summary, Adar, but only fair." Faramir said with a teasing smile as he blew on his tea to cool it. "Asad was always willing to work with us, even before Hadi, Gian and I were nearly killed together, and even before Eowyn..." The smile slipping away, Faramir asked, "You heard, did you not, that Emir Asad's wife Queen Maryam had been sick?" 

"So you said in your letters, Faramir, but you were a bit...vague." 

"Purposely so. I did not want to risk anyone else finding out, and a letter, no matter how carefully coded, can never be completely private. Queen Maryam was poisoned, the same poison that was used on Eowyn this past spring." 

Aragorn's face hardened and Boromir swore, nearly breaking the wine goblet as he slammed it down on a table. 

"By who?" Boromir demanded. 

"Whom." Faramir corrected absently, before answering "By someone in Efisio's network. The suggestion to share intelligence as to what remains of his men and plots was the Emir's, not ours. In part because of what happened to Maryam." 

"Eowyn saved her." Said Aragorn. It was not a question. Eowyn had come to the healer's craft with the zealousness of a convert, and the keen determination that had led her to learn a shieldmaiden's craft, survive in Grima's Edoras, go to war disguised, and slay a witch-king. 

Faramir nodded. "Aye, and Eowyn caught it quickly. She was already there at the Emir's palace that day. She had accompanied Lady Grazia, who is a friend of the Princess Rajiya, Queen Maryam's younger sister. A maid came for Rajiya when Maryam was taken ill. Rajiya had heard of Eowyn's work in the healing temples," Despite the seriousness of the topic, Faramir's white teeth flashed in a smile as he explained, "The veil-less adventures of the bastard foreigner Prince's savage heathen wife having been quite the topic of gossip."

Aragorn was tempted to warn Faramir to watch his tongue. He held off, but only because "bastard," here, came in the context of what other people had said about Faramir and Eowyn in Umbar, but it was not a word he approved of, in connection to Faramir. Not in anyone's mouth. 

"In any case," Faramir continued,"Eowyn was allowed to examine Maryam a mere half hour after she ingested the honey-wine the poison had been concealed in. Eowyn, and the Haradrim and Umbaran healers, anticipate that Maryam will be able to bear children again, although they have counselled her to wait a period of time before attempting to do so." Faramir broke off for a second, looking away and taking a harsh, deep breath. It was uncertain whether Eowyn would ever again be able to bear children. It was because of that, that Rochilien had been made Faramir's heir-by-law, and Aragorn's heir after Faramir. 

"She did well, ion-nin." Aragorn praised Eowyn, "You both have." He meant not just in Umbar, but in surviving and moving past this tragedy as well as they had. Aragorn's heart ached for his son and his daughter-by-law. Boromir's, as well. Being Boromir, his sorrow had taken the form of anger, at times, but he'd been good about leashing his temper, around Faramir and Eowyn. 

Faramir nodded back, clearly not yet trusting himself to speak. Aragorn returned to his theorizing, to give Faramir another few moments to calm. "So, it was the Beys, then, Asad's noble lords, who were convinced to agree to military cooperation by your bravery and camaraderie with their young Prince Hadi?" 

"More by my having fought to protect young Bey Rabi, actually." Faramir corrected, calmer now that he had a report to continue to give. "Rabi is the youngest and only surviving brother of Bey Ghassan. A powerful Lord who hates Gondor," Faramir explained, with a covert fond look at his own older brother, "But who loves his baby brother, even better than his hatred for their enemy." 

"Former enemy." Boromir offered, giving Harad the benefit of the doubt for the first time in Aragorn's memory. Oh, he looked like he was sucking on a lemon as he did so, but Aragorn was still very proud of him. 

"Former enemy." Faramir agreed, with a proud smile. Aragorn could understand why Boromir had tried so hard, all of his life, to be a good man, to be a better man, to dare to do something so alien to his nature as to confess to Aragorn during the Quest that he lusted after the Ring, and ask to be sent away so that he would not be tempted to take it from Frodo. The few times that Faramir had looked at Aragorn like that, as if Aragorn made the sun rise and set and would always do his best, Aragorn had been motivated to go beyond what he thought he could do, as well. One of those times, had been sending Faramir to Umbar. 

"Oh!" Faramir added, turning his attention to Aragorn, "I do not think you have to worry so much about Amrothos being threatened by Ruggiero, or any of Efisio's other surviving supporters, in Umbar. He has become quite the darling of both the Doge and the Emir and even Bey Ghassan, and all of them will look out for him. If the threat is overt - then he has powerful protectors." 

"I am glad to hear that." Said Aragorn, with relief. 

At the same time as Boromir commented, "Good. He needs it." 

Faramir shook his head at both of them, fondly exasperated. "Eowyn and I, as well, have been granted the friendship of the Emir, and the keys to Baldassare's house." 

"That is all well and good," Aragorn said, thinking that he would certainly quiz Faramir more closely on it later, "But I amazed that you managed to convince them to agree to this clause, among many others." Aragorn pointed to a paragraph in the treaty document which Faramir had not yet told them off. 

Boromir leaned over Aragorn's shoulder, reading it and then exclaiming, "They are willing, in three years' time, to discuss the issue of liberating slaves!" 

"Only if Faramir goes back to treat with them, in person." Aragorn murmured. 

"And they are only willing to possibly liberate the slaves who are of Gondorian or Arnorian, or Rohirrim, birth." Faramir added, looking exhausted. "It is little enough, but it opens the door for more, later. I think that the better course, if we do succeed in winning that concession, might be to lobby within the court of the Emir and the Assembly of the Oligarchs, for better treatment for the slaves, for a chance for them to be educated, own money, and buy their way free of their chains, rather than to push for a blanket emancipation." 

"Appealing to the cash box instead of the conscience?" Aragorn questioned softly. 

Faramir shrugged helplessly. "More, hoping that in appealing to the cash box, the question will be raised -why are these people are treated so differently when they are the same as anyone else?" 

Boromir shook his head, "Little brother, in one trip, you have gotten the Haradrim to reconsider keeping slaves. I think that we will have to tell Amrothos that he has lost his place as the one of us most like our golden-tongued grandfather Adrahil." 

"I don't know about that." Faramir disagreed, grinning, "'Twas Amrothos who spent much of our time in Umbar drinking and hunting and sailing with the Mirzas, Beys, Oligarchs, Beys, Patrices, and their ladies. 'Twas he as surely as Eowyn or I who won them over, in doing so and in riding to our rescue. But it was Eowyn, who prevailed on the issue of the slaves. Lady Grazia..." 

"A notable Lady. We should offer her our protection, Faramir." Aragorn stated. 

"We already have. She is the cousin of the new Lady Sayyida, sister-by-law of the Lord of the Blackroot Vale, the Lord who is himself the sworn-brother of the Steward of Gondor. And, although we let it commonly be believed that Dervorin is something of a wastrel, it is also known that he is my sworn brother." Faramir explained, going on to say, "Lady Grazia managed to convince Oligarch Ruggiero to concede to the provision concerning the slaves." 

"How?" Aragorn asked again. 

"With Eowyn's assistance." Faramir replied, "I did not ask how." 

"Ah." Commented Aragorn neutrally. He was sure that Faramir hadn’t asked. He was just as sure that Eowyn had told Faramir of her own accord. They were as thick as thieves, his son and his son’s fair bride. It was a good thing for them, as a couple. Aragorn was less than sure it was good for them, safety-wise. In many ways, Faramir and Eowyn’s union was a gift. But Aragorn sometimes thought that letting two youngest children who had been on their own in dangerous terrain for so long marry one another might not have been his best idea, or Eomer’s. Faramir and Eowyn reinforced one another’s bad ideas, at times. Like Eowyn letting Faramir go get into a duel – which fortunately Boromir had stopped. Or like Faramir letting Eowyn go with the healers who went to care for prisoners-of-war. They only let one another be at risk if the other was safe, at least Rochilien had been born. But Eowyn was too likely to take Faramir’s part with things like ignoring threatening letters.

But Aragorn let that go, for now. Trusting that if there was anything else he needed to know immediately as King, Faramir would have already told him, Aragorn returned to the matter which had troubled him most. But even as he did so, he would give his son credit for what Faramir had accomplished. If he had to work on it to the end of his days, Aragorn would make sure that his son knew how much he was loved, how much he would be missed if anything ever happened to take him from his family before his natural end. 

"I never expected this, ion-nin. Not in my lifetime, or yours." Aragorn observed, holding the treaty in his hand. "This...this is a good three generations of progress, if all were to go well....and you, and Eowyn and Amrothos and Dervorin and those others you brought with you, you managed it in but a few months." 

"Not alone." Faramir countered, although his pale cheeks were flushed with pride, "You sent me with a good staff, all of whom worked hard. And besides, there are many good people in Umbar, Adar. And Eowyn and I -and Amrothos- made a very good team." 

"An exceptional team." Aragorn concurred, "However, I am not pleased with all of your decisions in Umbar." Aragorn worked hard at suppressing his temper as Faramir blushed again, this time with embarrassment. "What were you thinking, ion-nin? Going to meet a drug-addicted, war-sick youth, in the middle of a city of our former enemies? And knowing that the dangerous merchant who sold him poison would be there?" 

"Ah, yes, but it seemed like a good decision....." Faramir protested, "At the time, I mean, and....and it did work out, in the end." 

Boromir snorted and threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. Turning to Aragorn, he exclaimed, "Now do you see what I've been dealing with, all these years, Ada Aragorn? He does this type of thing again, and again. In Ithilien, and in Harad - I saw him while I was on the quest, in a vision- doing the same idiotic thing!"

"Did you?" Faramir asked with half-offended interest, "When was that, Boromir? What was I doing?" 

"Faramir." Aragorn said with quiet intensity. "Pay attention." 

The younger man stiffened, turning to meet Aragorn's eyes with a quiet, "Yes, Sir." 

That response made Aragorn want to shake him. Yes, he wanted Faramir to stop protesting, pay attention, and take this criticism of his actions seriously. No, he did not want to be "Sir'd" and...and given lip service. And scared lip-service, at that. A show of obedience for the sake of appearance, duty, and safety, after which Faramir would almost certainly go ahead and do whatever he felt was necessary anyway, because otherwise it wouldn't get done. Aragorn mentally cursed Denethor for being a fool and a bully to his second-son, Aragorn's true-son. Punishing Faramir, even lecturing him, was fraught with pitfalls and traps for the unwary. In Faramir's mind, "Father" meant "Threat," and Aragorn feared at times that he would be trying and failing to put that ghost to rest for all of their days. Still, Faramir was worth it. More than. 

So, Aragorn took a deep breath, rubbed his temple, and then just smiled at his infuriating offspring. 

Faramir blinked in surprise. "Sir?" He asked again, more hesitantly. But that cursed say-what-he-needs-to-say-to-get-this-over-with look - and tone- had vanished from his demeanor, Aragorn noted with relief and no small amount of satisfaction.

Aragorn didn't reply. He just leaned back and regarded Faramir levelly, letting his affection as well as his exasperation show, just a little bit. 

"Aragorn, what are you...." Began Boromir, before Aragorn raised a hand to cut him off. Both brothers regarded him quizzically for a moment. 

It was Faramir who caught on first. Some of the strain left his expression, he ducked his head for a moment to hide the rueful amusement in his eyes. Then he looked up again, with a fond if still somewhat strained look for the King. "Yes, Adar." Faramir dutifully amended his previous, "Yes, Sir." 

"Thank you." Replied Aragorn, as Boromir regarded them both quizzically. Aragorn wasn't sure what to do next, after winning that concession. More explicitly remind Faramir of where and when he was and that Aragorn wasn't Denethor? Denethor would have...well, he probably never would have sent an ambassador to Harad in the first place. If he had, it wouldn't have been Faramir. If Gondor had been lucky, it would have been Imrahil. Who would have done well, but likely not as well as Faramir had. It might even have been Boromir, who would have been a disaster as a diplomat in Umbar (although, to Boromir's credit, he'd done a decent job in Rohan, once). 

Fortunately, Faramir spoke up himself. "I know that choosing to go and meet Gian in such a place myself was dangerous. But I am not sure what I should have done differently." 

Aragorn nodded patiently, waving Boromir to silence when he opened his mouth to yell. "I think that you have some ideas, at least, ion-nin." Aragorn encouraged. Most of his annoyance was gone, or at least had been dismissed for the moment. Faramir was taking this seriously. Not knowing what he should have done differently wasn't defiance or heedlessness, it was just honesty. Aragorn could work with that. 

Faramir paused, and then took a deep breath. "I could have notified one of his own people, myself, although it is a crime in their city and I could not be sure that they would not arrest the youth. Or I could have sent Amrothos, in my place. I...I did think of that, at the time. Amrothos had spent time with Gian, as well. They had a rapport. It was I who had actually made the offer to help Gian, that day at council, and it was I to whom we both believed he had reached out, but...I could have sent Amrothos." 

"Faramir, that's little better!" Boromir snapped. 

"Quiet, Boromir!" Aragorn scolded fiercely. 

"Well, neither of them should have done any such thing!" Boromir yelled back. 

Faramir's posture became defensive again, and he looked ready to intercede between them. To what end, Aragorn wasn't sure, perhaps to protect his brother, perhaps to encourage Boromir to listen. Either way, it shouldn't be Faramir's responsibility. Aragorn and Boromir arguing should not bring such acute distress to his expressive eyes. 

"Faramir, ion-nin, I am not angry with Boromir." Aragorn reassured softly, ignoring Boromir as his Steward continued to bluster and bellow. "I am not angry with you, either. I am displeased with a decision that you made, and I need to make sure that you understand why, so that hopefully in the future you will make fewer such decisions." The King's gentle tone at last derailed Boromir's temper, and brought him to blushing silence. 

"Yes, Si...Adar." Answered Faramir, relaxing only a fraction. 

"It will all be well, Faramir, do not worry." Aragorn soothed, before turning to Boromir. "As for you, other-son, you are still here because you are his brother and my Steward and have a stake in this discussion for both reasons. But if all that you are going to do when Faramir begins to consider what other options he had is the adult equivalent of stomping your feet and yelling, 'No, no, no,' then I'm going to have to ask you to leave, and rejoin us later after you have calmed yourself." 

"Yes, Aragorn." Boromir agreed, abashed. 

"Good." Aragorn said with a smile, clapping the elder brother fondly on the shoulder. Calling Boromir to heel was a less fraught business. He was a much more straightforward fellow by nature, and on top of that, he'd never had reason to fear his father. Save, of course, in Denethor's treatment of Faramir. 

"Now, Faramir, you had mentioned sending Amrothos...do continue." Aragorn prompted. 

"Ah, yes..." Faramir began again, appearing a bit bemused. "It occurred to me, not at the time, but later, that I could have tried to find someone from Harad to go with Amrothos, or meet him there, as time was of the essence. Amrothos had informed me that Bey Rabi was a particular friend of Patriz Gian, so he might have been a good choice. Gimlinzi, and nish, are not illegal in Harad, so Rabi would not have been risking any legal sanction for failing to report Gian's drug use and the merchant's activities to the proper authorities. Perhaps even Dervorin or Sir Bellasaer - someone in my entourage whom Gian would have recognized." 

"That would have been a good alternative." Aragorn praised, "But I know that it is not always possible to think your way out of every trap when it is first presented to you." 

Quiet fell as Faramir absorbed that with a nod. 

"Just sending Bellasaer, or Amrothos, or even Dev, and one of the Haradrim lords to meet them, would have been a better idea, though." Aragorn chided. 

"What?!" Objected Boromir again. 

"Oh, what was he to do, Boromir, ignore the message?" Aragorn asked with some asperity. 

"It was from a drug-addict, so, yes, of course!" said Boromir. 

"It was from the younger son of the Doge of Umbar, relating to a matter of personal honor." Aragorn distinguished, a bit gratified that Faramir was apparently trusting Aragorn to speak for him. 

"Well, I suppose so, but...." Boromir continued, understandably appearing as if the very idea of sending his beloved baby cousin into danger upset him nearly as much as the idea of sending his beloved baby brother into danger. 

"Brom," Faramir pointed out gently, "What if this had happened in Rohan? What if it had been Theodred asking for such help? Before you knew Theoden well enough to know that he'd give it, even if it meant bending the law?" 

"I..." Boromir trailed off, obviously considering that carefully. "Well, maybe I don't know what I would have done." Boromir finally admitted, "But no merchant in Rohan would ever have tried to kill me over it!" 

"You've never been in Rohan when someone was accused of horse-stealing, then." Aragorn murmured softly, hiding a smile. 

Boromir snorted. "Summary execution probably occurs. I swear, they love their horses more than their women." 

All three men shared a smile at that irreverence. 

"Alright, even Amrothos would have been a better choice than Faramir. A bit better." Boromir grudgingly conceded. 

"Magordan would have gone with Amrothos. He's fought in the streets of Umbar before, and knows the best ways to go about surviving it." Aragorn pointed out, in case Faramir hadn't thought of that.

"Hmm, yes. Magordan made that point, eloquently, after I was feeling better." Faramir said. 

Aragorn couldn't hide a smile at that. "Eloquently, or loudly?" He asked. 

"More the second then the first, but he was quite verbose about it. For Magordan." Faramir explained, with a rueful smile of his own. 

"Well, then, dear son of mine, I suppose that leaves us at the question of what I should do with you, for rushing into danger without due consideration....again." Concluded Aragorn, gently but firmly. 

Faramir smiled in rueful acknowledgement. 

Boromir, making a noise of frustration, grumbled, "I'd know how to deal with him." 

"This is one of those times when I have to remind you that I'm the father again, isn't it?" Aragorn told Boromir with exasperated fondness. 

"But, Aragorn, he went and nearly got....!" 

"Yes, yes." Aragorn agreed, cutting Boromir off before he had a chance to really get started, "But he was acting as MY ambassador. The Reunited Kingdoms', not just Gondor's. My ambassador by my personal appointment. Therefore, his actions as ambassador are mine to discipline him for, not yours, or the council's." 

"I'm his brother!" Boromir protested. "And besides, it COULD be a council matter, when a Prince - and your heir, need I remind you, Aragorn - almost gets himself killed on some cursed-fool personal errand!" 

Faramir paled at the mention of the council, and then shook his head slightly at Boromir's last words. Specifically his next to last word, if Aragorn read the situation correctly. 

"The key word is "personal," Boromir." Aragorn pointed out gently, sitting down beside Faramir and putting a calming hand on his son's knee. "The reckless errand was personal. Yes, the ramifications could have been political. And the benefits that we reaped were political. But the errand was personal. Faramir understands what was at risk. My judgment as King is that it is fair for me to deal with this as a personal matter, such that I am not going to question Faramir's judgment before my council. Do you disagree?" 

"Of course not!" Boromir replied heatedly, "But he still almost got himself killed! He knows better!" 

Aragorn chuckled wryly, nudging his now-quiet son, "Although, to be fair to our Faramir, neither of us told him specifically not to go meeting drug addicts in dangerous sections of Umbar late at night." 

Faramir choked on an incredulous laugh as Boromir glared at both father and son. Boromir knew as well as Aragorn that it was not humanly possible to tell Faramir not to do every permutation of an idea that Faramir might think up. It just amused Aragorn more than it did Boromir, possibly because Aragorn, when he was younger, had been somewhat similar. Or perhaps because he'd known and loved the young Imrahil and Finduilas as his dear friends, and they had also been similar to Faramir, albeit in somewhat different ways. 

More seriously, Aragorn continued, "Our Faramir is your younger brother, and of course you have the right to care for him and hold him accountable to certain standards in regard of his own safety. Yet Faramir made you no specific promises in regard to his ambassadorship, Boromir, unlike with respect to the spying business. He shouldn't have to answer to the both of us for this, not when it was a difficult decision without a clear right-or-wrong. It isn't fair to him." 

"I don't mind." Faramir spoke up quietly, before Boromir could respond. "I know that going to meet Gian with such a small escort could have proven dangerous to all of us, or I should have figured it out, at the least. I will freely answer to you both for it, in whatever way you deem fit." 

"No, you won't." Aragorn denied, irritated and exasperated. Didn't his boy know when someone was trying to help him? 

At the same time, to Aragorn's surprise, Boromir agreed. "No, kit. Ada Aragorn has the right of this. Sometimes I forget that...that I'm not your only, um." 

"It is well, Boromir." Faramir said, going to his brother. Aragorn let them have a moment, while he wondered to himself how many battles, over the years, Faramir had won by losing, or at he least by being willing to lose, or appearing to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading and enjoying, I would love to hear from you! Either way, thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a spanking scene in this chapter, so if that isn't to your taste, please read the gen version of this story available here: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/1311646/chapters/3139819
> 
> It is under my main SusanaR pseudonym. Thank you!

Boromir excused himself to go finish his letter, leaving Aragorn alone with his son. 

"Sit down, Faramir." He commanded, taking a seat himself and considering the younger man. Faramir was nervous, but not frantic. Not even so worried that he was pretending to be calm. Aragorn took that as a good sign. 

Holding onto his patience despite his own anger with his offspring's sometimes-heedless behavior, Aragorn said, "If it takes me the rest of my life - which had by-Valar better be fewer years than you are yet alive, my dear one - I swear that I will teach you to think better of putting your life in jeopardy when there is any other feasible option." 

Faramir looked properly repentant. "Yes, Si...Adar." He replied. 

"We have already spoken briefly of what you should have done differently." Aragorn continued, softening slightly, "And I am sympathetic- no, don't look at me like that, Faramir. I truly am sympathetic to the fact that you are new to your position of prominence, new to me, new to a world where we have more and different choices. I understand that. But you must keep in mind who you are, and that putting yourself in jeopardy not only hurts your family but can also have grave consequences for those who serve you and our kingdoms as a whole." 

"I..." Faramir began, at a loss for words. Aragorn waited. 

"You are right, Aran-nin, Adar, of course you are, but...it is very difficult. It is not fair." 

"No, it is not fair." Aragorn agreed gently. "That I have known since I was twenty years of age, and first knew myself to be Isildur's heir." 

"Yet you gallivanted by yourself all over Middle Earth, despite that!" Faramir objected. 

"Not often by myself, Faramir." Aragorn corrected. "I most often had at least two ranger companions. I was alone when I met Frodo and his companions in Bree,yes, but only by the rare circumstance of Halbarad catching ill, and then needing to part ways from Orohael and other companions in order to send word to Imladris of our coming and the Dunedain villages of the heightened danger." 

When Faramir looked ready to dispute that, Aragorn gave his son a severe look. "I will be happy to discuss my earlier adventures with you at another time, ion-nin. Aye, and even my earlier misadventures. But tonight we are discussing your decision to go to the aid of a former enemy in the city of our former enemies. An enemy who was admittedly in a compromised state himself and engaged in a criminal enterprise, in a section of the city where knifings are not uncommon." 

"It's not actually that bad a section of town, anymore...." Faramir murmured. 

"You're not helping yourself." Aragorn pointed out dryly, working again to suppress his own temper with his clever son's many evasions and general heedlessness. 

"I...yes, yes you're right." Faramir conceded, "I'm sorry, I agree that it wasn't the best decision. That it was dangerous. I am sorry, that I put so many in danger. And sorry...that I frightened you." 

"And Boromir." Aragorn noted, somewhat mollified, "And I'm sure Eowyn and Arwen, when she hears of it. And the rest of our family and friends...many people care greatly for you, dear one. I'm not sure that you truly understand that. Not yet, at least." 

Faramir appeared a bit overwhelmed. Aragorn took pity on him, "As my vassal and heir, for risking your safety and putting your command in jeopardy without proper reflection, you will be making an in-depth study of what you might have done differently." He ordered sternly, "And preparing a very detailed report of who is who in Umbar, and the alliances between them, along with a precis which is so brief and interesting that even your brother will read it, understand it, and remember it." 

Looking quite daunted at such a desk, which of course he should be, Faramir nonetheless squared his shoulders and accepted the responsibility without demur. Aragorn had expected no less, but he was still proud of his son. 

He nodded at Faramir, letting the pride show in his eyes as he did so. "As my son," Aragorn began more gently, "You owe me twenty hours of your time, to do with what I wish." 

"Twenty!" Faramir protested lightly, having had this sanction levied against him before for one infraction or another, but never so many hours. 

"You put yourself in danger, did you not? Risked your life, even?" Aragorn replied reasonably. 

"I...yes." Faramir had to concede. 

"So, twenty hours for me. Ten, I think, for your brother. Five hours for each of Arwen and Nessanie, upon their return." 

"Yes, Adar." Faramir, resigned, but not, so far as Aragorn could tell, truly upset. It made sense that he would not be. For part of the twenty hours, yes, Aragorn was planning to have Faramir help him brew noxious healing remedies and practice right-sided arms drills that he knew the youth hated. But for some of those hours, he would let Faramir decide what they would do, or just insist himself on taking his son to go and do things that he knew Faramir enjoyed, spend time in the archives or with the minstrels, if Faramir was minded to punish himself unnecessarily. The extra time together at Aragorn's pleasure was a good punishment for Faramir, in Aragorn's opinion, because it both reinforced the lesson that his son was loved, and was also completely different than any sanction which had ever been levied upon Faramir by Denethor. 

"Boromir will have me doing his paperwork." Faramir predicted, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, "After my having been gone for months, he probably has mountains of it." 

"Hmm." Aragorn replied, suppressing a smile, "Not quite so bad as that. More, large hills. The assistants you and Imrahil found for him have proven to be quite competent." 

"Bless them." Said Faramir. Then his gray eyes regarded Aragorn intently. "What else?" He asked, worried but not scared. 

It was on the tip of Aragorn's tongue to ask 'What do you mean, 'what else?',' Then he realized that he knew. He'd promised Faramir, at one point and another, that if the youth put himself in undue danger, that would always mean at least a spanking from his father. And that risking his life cavalierly would always earn him at least a few swats with a paddle, on top of that. Aragorn might actually have let this go, with the demanding work assignment and the time. Faramir had only just returned to them, he'd been through a harrowing experience far from home, and Aragorn didn't really want to punish him. But...letting Faramir off lightly would not necessarily teach him to treat his life more carefully. Unfortunately, Aragorn resolved to levy out a spanking, and a bit of a paddling at the end. 

"You know, ion-nin." He answered Faramir, stern but kind. "It does not need to be tonight, though. I think that tonight you need a bit more food, a bath, and a good sleep." 

"I...I would actually rather get it out of the way, tonight." Faramir confessed in a rush. 

Aragorn could understand that. "Up, then." He instructed, giving Faramir a supportive pat on the shoulder as his son's face paled a bit. 

They were already in Aragorn's private office, in the King's House. Aragorn had Lord Elrond's paddle in his desk drawer, as well as a ruler and a leather paddle which he had recently purchased - quite a story in and of itself. The leather paddle was meant to be an intermediary implement, a bit more sting than just his hand but less than the wooden paddle which had belonged to his foster-father. As Aragorn's own backside knew well, that particular paddle imparted quite a sting for all its relatively small size. Yet, he'd spanked Faramir with Elrond's paddle before, and he could just gentle the swats, tonight. It would be better, Aragorn decided, to introduce the lighter paddle another time, hopefully when his young man had done something even less terrifying. And when he'd not just gotten home from a dangerous diplomatic mission, in case the mere fact that the newer paddle was made of leather would call to mind a proper strap, or worse, for Faramir.

That decided, Aragorn retrieved his foster-father's paddle from his desk drawer. Faramir removed the leather overtunic that he'd worn on-ship, a nod to being in armor without properly being armored. Then a thinner woolen over tunic, dark blue and dark grey. Standing in just undershirt and leggings, Faramir looked uncomfortable. As well anyone would, in his place. 

"Come, ion-nin," Aragorn directed, taking a seat in the middle of a low settee in his office, the one which Arwen used for reading and sometimes napping, and which Boromir used for lying down and sleeping when he was supposed to be working. 

Faramir's eyes widened in worry when he saw the settee. 

"The settee instead of you over my knee on a chair because I am tired, and you are tired as well, dear one. Not because we are going to be here a long time." Aragorn reassured him. 

Faramir smiled, quite nervous and anxious, but still rueful and wry. "I am glad for that, at least." He said, as he went to stand beside Aragorn, loosened the ties of his leggings, and pushed them down to his knees. 

Knowing that the last step was difficult for Faramir, Aragorn offered him a hand, and helped him to get down and settled over Aragorn's knees. 

"Yes, I know you always hate this." Aragorn said sympathetically, replying to Faramir's unuttered protest. "Be more careful with my - our- dearly beloved young Prince, and it will not as often be necessary, hmm?" To emphasize the point that it was Faramir's own decisions and actions which had brought him to this unenviable position, Aragorn pulled Faramir's undershirt up and then patted his bare bottom. "You understand why you're here, ion-nin, so we will just focus on getting this over with." 

"That would be preferable...." Faramir murmured sardonically, causing Aragorn to smile at his son's cheekiness. And also make his first swat a bit sharper than it might otherwise have been, but only a bit. Steadily, but only using perhaps a quarter of his strength, Aragorn levied out firm spanks over the entire area of his son's slender backside. Being careful in part because Faramir was thinner than he had been, Aragorn kept an eye on both the pinkening of his son's rear cheeks and Faramir's reactions. Other than an instinctive gasp at the first smack, Faramir was doing an admirable job of holding still. For the few minutes, the only sound in the room was the rather loud smack of Aragorn's hand landing on Faramir's bare backside. 

Tightening his reassuring grip on Faramir's back, Aragorn continued to methodically spank Faramir's bottom with his other hand, alternating his swats from left cheek to right and paying particular attention to the crease of buttocks and thighs. Faramir had starting gasping and wincing by the time that Aragorn had levied out perhaps thirty careful swats. He paused for a moment, his hand resting on his sons' well-warmed bottom. 

"And the next time that a new friend in a questionable state of mind invites you to help him sever ties with his drug procurer in a bad section of our former enemies' city, you will...." Aragorn asked softly. 

"Ta...talk to the Captain of my Guard." Faramir promised, short of breath although not quite teary. "Think...think it through better. Maybe not go, myself, and look for allies instead. Ada, I'm sorry...." 

"I know." Aragorn soothed, hardening his heart as he picked up the paddle. "We're almost done." Aragorn could see Faramir take a deep, slightly ragged breath, preparing himself. Aragorn picked up the wooden paddle and rested it for a moment against Faramir's heated backside, before lifting it and bringing it down with a sharp crack on the center of his son's bottom. Faramir yelped quietly, and then did so again as Aragorn made an abbreviated circuit with the paddle, swatting each cheek twice in turn, and then the center of Faramir's bottom again. Then he put the paddle aside, lifted his son's undershirt down over his rosy bottom, and patted Faramir's back. 

"There now, we're done." Aragorn said kindly. Faramir nodded, wiping at his damp eyes with one sleeve, and reaching out a hand to his father. 

Aragorn grasped the hand and helped to lever Faramir to his feet. He gave his son a chance to right his clothing, then caught Faramir in a tight embrace. 

"Be more careful, curse it all, ion-nin." He said fiercely into Faramir's ear. "I'd far rather spoil you than spank you." 

Faramir laughed a bit wetly, probably as much in relief to have it all over with as at his father's statement. "I know that you would, Sir, Adar." Faramir answered huskily, returning the embrace. "You have said so often enough, and offered proof enough, that I must believe you." 

Then Faramir pulled away, and Aragorn let him. Looking over his son's flushed face and disarranged hair, Aragorn smiled fondly and shook his head. "Perhaps go get yourself cleaned up, ion-nin?" Aragorn asked, gesturing towards the small wash room that adjoined his study. It proved most useful for last minute tasks such as cleaning ink out of his Steward's hair before council meetings, and also for purposes such as this. 

Faramir gratefully agreed. Aragorn took the time his son was freshening up to go wander down to the kitchens, where Candes and several other staff members were still on duty. 

"Prince Faramir's rooms still aren't quite ready, Lord Aragorn." Candes said apologetically, "We've redirected heated water towards the vents under the floor, and lit the fires, but it won't be truly warm until the sun rises. 

"I know, Candes." Aragorn agreed reassuringly, "Faramir will sleep in my apartments, or Boromir's, tonight. If you could please fetch a change of clothes for him, and bring it to my sitting room, that would be more than sufficient." 

Candes frowned. "I'm sorry, my Lord, but Princess Eowyn's maids and Prince Faramir's squire are really the only ones who know where anything is in the Prince and Princess's chambers." 

Aragorn sighed, because now that the dutiful Candes mentioned that, he remembered that it was true. "You are right again, Candes." Aragorn said ruefully, "I will fetch his clothing, then." Aragorn did so, and also ended up with a fresh tray of hazelnut biscuits the cook had prepared just for Faramir. 

"Mistress Mairenwen has missed you, I think." Aragorn observed, as he re-entered his study to find Faramir looking over papers on his desk. "Enough of that," the King scolded, "Eat your biscuits and drink your tea like a good returning diplomat." 

Faramir laughed, looking a bit red-eyed and pink cheeked, but much more composed than he had earlier. Aragorn did notice that his son was moving a bit stiffly, as if the clothing rubbing up against his rear still wasn't particularly comfortable. 

"Boromir would say that you spoil me." Faramir said, his voice still a bit husky, as he chose to stand at the side table to eat his dessert rather than take it to one of the chairs. 

"Boromir would spoil you too, if you'd stop scaring him." Aragorn retorted lightly. More seriously, he added, "Do try to cut your brother a bit of slack, dear one. He spent most of the years of your life not being able to protect you from...many things. Now that the war is over, and he is Steward and I the King, Boromir finally has the power to keep you from the most dangerous of risks. And yet, you are determined to do things which are not safe. And we must let you, for nothing in life is safe and you were not made to sit in an office and fight your battles from there." 

Faramir listened attentively as he spread butter and honey on top of his biscuit. "I would not have minded sitting in an office, if that had been my lot from the beginning, I think." 

"You would have wanted to be in the thick of things if there was a thick of things to be in." Aragorn disagreed, "But I'll grant that you have more tolerance for the office, and more understanding of the power of the quill, than either your brother or I." 

"I do love Boromir dearly, but he would order me to stay in that office, I think. If he could - if you would let him." Faramir complained, part affectionate, part frustrated, and...ah yes, part hurt. 

"Faramir, he respects you as a man, and as a warrior." Aragorn reprimanded lightly, "But he knows, as I know, and you know, that you are not a natural swordsman. Your first instinct is not to fight, if you can avoid it. That is an excellent trait in a man and even a warrior, but it can also get you killed if you take it too far." 

Faramir nodded absently as he chewed, clearly not entirely happy with that description of himself, but not disagreeing either. 

"And as we all know," Aragorn continued gently, "Your armsmasters and trainers were, for many years, rather poor at teaching you the blade. The skills they taught you and their teaching styles were unsuited to your size and temperament. You've done very well with working to remedy that, but yes, we still worry about you. You still worry about us, when diplomacy and administrative prowess are called for, do you not?" 

"Well, yes," Faramir agreed, "But those are not....

"Stop." Aragorn cut him off, "Those skills are equally as important, Faramir. Do not think that I haven't realized the work that you and your brother, and Nessanie, have done in making it so that Arwen and I are accepted here, seen as returning heros, long-lost cousin-kin, rather than foreign interlopers. The work that you and I have done, in re-writing laws. The work that you and yours accomplished in Umbar, paving the road for a lasting peace. All equally as important, ion-nin. Even more so, in some ways." 

Faramir's gray eyes reflected his gratitude, and even pride. But he was still unhappy as he protested, "If you and Boromir were to treat me as capable of managing my own affairs, it would certainly reinforce that sentiment, Adar-muin-nin." 

"Yes, well, talk to me about this again after a year goes by without you doing something so dangerous that I feel I must put you over my knee in answer for it." Aragorn remarked with some asperity. 

"Boromir runs afoul of you near as often as I." Faramir protested softly, "And yet you do not worry so much about him!" 

Aragorn internally lamented the trials of sibling rivalry. Summoning patience, he pointed out, "Boromir is reckless, but his first instinct is to come to me and complain about something which he feels is complex and dangerous. Yours is to go and deal with whatever it is by yourself in order to protect us from having to worry about it. Tell me, then, son, whom I should worry about more?" 

"Well," Said Faramir with a rueful smile,"By that logic, me. I am trying to be better, though." 

"Keep trying." Aragorn advised dryly. 

"I will." Faramir promised. After a moment of contemplatively stirring his tea, he said hesitantly, "I was somewhat surprised, actually, that you trusted me enough to go to Umbar." 

"You were the best choice." Aragorn said, his voice tight. "Yet still, it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Not because I was worried that you would not do it well, but because there were many dangers, and I did not want to risk you. But you are a very wise, brave man, ion-nin, and I could not think of a better one, for that assignment. And indeed, you more than proved that I was right." Aragorn did not go into it, but the decision to send Faramir for the good of Gondor had been an extremely difficult one, in part because Aragorn cared, on some level, far more about what was good and safe for Faramir than he did about what was good for Gondor. He thought, at times, that it might have been wise of his Ada Elrond, to have insisted that he and Arwen not wed until after their great Enemy was defeated. He could not imagine fighting a war, and worrying over a child. It had been hard enough, worrying over Arwen. Who, truth to tell, appreciated his concern no more than Faramir. 

"I am glad that you sent me." Faramir said softly. "It was good. For all of us." 

Aragorn laughed. "Well, I'll have some words for Eowyn." 

"And you may say them, father. But only if I am present." Faramir asserted. 

"Oh, calm yourself, child." Aragorn scolded him mildly, "Your lady is more than capable of defending herself. I may leave the whole matter to Arwen. You can insist to be present, then, too, but I suspect that the two of them can work it out between themselves with no need of you." 

"Likely so." Faramir agreed, with a bit of a blush for his overzealous defense of Eowyn. 

"Hmm." Said Aragorn fondly. "Well, you seem to have finished indulging your sweet tooth. Let's get you into a bath - you do smell of brine. And then you can sleep in a real bed. Not your own, as your rooms are still cold, but mine, or Boromir's. Or Tavan's or our guest room, if you'd rather sleep on your own." 

Faramir's expression turned wistful. "I think I'd rather venture out to the bathing pools, I think. I'm stiff, and I haven't had a chance to properly bathe, or swim, since Umbar." 

Aragorn was a bit surprised by that, as Faramir was often a modest sort, and the youth's backside would still be pink for several hours yet. But Aragorn willingly agreed, teasing his sea-prince son about the ocean water having been too cold for even a swan prince to want to swim in it. 

The large hot and cold pools of water under the citadel were part of the city's strategic water supply and defense system. The hot water and cold water came from within the mountain, and was used to provide water for the city, as well as to heat and cool the residences and public buildings of the city. The water was recirculated to flush the sewage system, and additionally served as strategic reservoir in case of siege. Minas Tirith could have withstood any lesser siege in definitely, and had, at times in its past. 

As they walked from the King's House to the Citadel, Aragorn told one of the guards who began to follow them at a discreet distance to advise Boromir as to their whereabouts, and to direct other male bathers - such as guardsmen and staff coming on or off duty - to go to the larger pool rather than the smaller one. It was a small abuse of rank, perhaps, but it would not greatly inconvenience many people at this late hour of the evening. 

The warm air hit them like a wave, welcome after the cold of the walk between the King's House and the Citadel. Faramir wasted not time in shedding his clothing and diving under the water. He swam the length of the pool and back up again twice before stopping for air. 

Aragorn, who had seen his seal-like son, and before him Imrahil, perform like feats, just watched wtih amusement. He took his own clothing off and just slid into one of the carved stone seats on the edge of the pool, waiting for Faramir to finish with his exercise and join him in his own time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more chapter to go, and it's rather a bit of a chatty, feel-good epilogue. Please do let me know if you've been enjoying the story, if you are so inclined. Either way, thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote: 
> 
> "Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." - Mark Twain 
> 
>  
> 
> Excerpt from previous chapter: 
> 
> "The warm air hit them like a wave, welcome after the cold of the walk between the King's House and the Citadel. Faramir wasted no time in shedding his clothing and diving under the water. He swam the length of the pool and back up again twice before stopping for air. 
> 
> Aragorn, who had seen his seal-like son, and before him Imrahil, perform like feats, just watched with amusement. He took his own clothing off and just slid into one of the carved stone seats on the edge of the pool, waiting for Faramir to finish with his exercise and join him in his own time."

The door opened, admitting a grinning Boromir. Soon the brothers were wrestling in the water. Aragorn watched them indulgently, chiding them only when their splashing came too near to him. If he wasn't quite so tired, he might join in, but for now it was pleasant to just enjoy seeing the two brothers together again. 

It was Faramir, laughing, who begged off first. Swimming over to Aragorn's bench, he pulled himself up to sit beside his father in one smooth, effortless motion. 

Aragorn smiled in greeting and pushed a lock of wet hair away from Faramir's gray eyes. 

From the next over bench, Boromir, who evidently thought his brother's backside should still be a darker shade of pink, told Aragorn disapprovingly, "You're too easy on him."

 

Faramir made an irritated face at his brother.

"Well, someone's got to be." Aragorn replied fondly, not in the least bit apologetic. 

"Hunh." Said Boromir, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "Be more cursed careful, Faramir." He said, instead. It was half an order and half a plea, and rather effective. 

"I will, Brom." Faramir promised gravely. 

"You did well, though." Boromir said, his temper lightening. "If I ever need to talk a bear out of his honey again...." Boromir cast a mischievous look at Aragorn, "I will definitely send you." 

"Is that how you ended up with Toothless?" Aragorn asked, very much wanting to know the story of that ridiculous bear that the brothers and their friends of the Ringlo Vale had been refusing to share with him for years. 

"Maybe." Said Boromir unconvincingly. He did not lie well. Faramir shook his head, amused. 

"Ah, well." Aragorn let that go, resolving to wait until Eowyn had returned and ask Faramir then, when he was distracted. "You really did do an excellent job for us in Harad, Faramir-muin-nin." He said, returning the subject to praising the son whom he did not think had ever heard enough positive words, growing up. Aragorn was certainly glad to have him back home, for many reasons, among the least of which being that Faramir's earnest and near-inexhaustible eloquence would make the upcoming small council sessions go more smoothly. 

Faramir smiled shyly. "It was...nice, to have a chance to talk instead of fight. Well, mostly talk, instead of fight." Regarding his brother fondly, Faramir added, "The most important battle I ever won, I won with my tongue." 

Faramir was, Aragorn knew, speaking of his impassioned appeal to his brother not to take the ring, the speech which had stayed in Boromir's mind throughout the Quest, and eventually caused him to re-think doing such a terrible thing. Boromir almost certainly knew that, as well, but that didn't stop him from snickering madly. 

Faramir favored his guffawing brother with a disgusted look. "You know what I meant." He chided, kicking his foot and splashing Boromir with water so expertly targeted that the laughing turned to choking. 

"Boys..." Aragorn reproached them lightly, before shrugging to himself as Boromir yanked Faramir back into the pool, and the two were off, wrestling and swimming again. They reminded him a little of Elladan and Elrohir, at times, or of himself and his cousin Halbarad and their dear friend Ethiron, who had died during the war. Halbarad had survived the war, and was currently supervising the rebuilding of Annuminas. Aragorn missed him, as did Faramir, who had befriended Halbarad in the wake of the war. 

The stone door to the bathing room opened and the soft tread of a ranger's foot prints could be heard against the tiles. Aragorn looked up, half-expecting his thoughts of Halbarad to have summoned the man. It was actually Magordan, though, his dark hair turned entirely to silver. Aragorn liked to tease that had been Faramir's fault, but it had really happened during the year of the war and just after, when Magordan had been looking out for Aragorn. 

Aragorn gestured for his old friend to join them. 

"It's good to see you again, my lad." Magordan offered, as he lowered himself into the water with a grateful sigh. A quiet one, though. Magordan's bones ached in the cold sometimes, a result of more human heritage and over a decade more years than Aragorn possessed. But the older man would not want to let on to that weakness, more for Faramir's benefit than for pride. 

"Was it too much, the journey?" Aragorn asked quietly, now Magordan's healer rather than his once-protege, friend, and King. 

"No, not too much." Magordan denied, with a tight, tired small. "Not yet, at the least. The trip back was longer. 'Twas colder, and the winds never let up. Faramir's crazy cousin Captain Telemnar never faltered, but there were points when I didn't think we would make it through the straits and up the river." 

Aragorn sighed. "I am glad indeed to have you all home, but had anyone asked, I would have directed that you sail as far as the Falas with Eowyn, and then make your way overland from there. It would have been slower, but safer." 

Magordan chuckled. "One of Faramir's scribes did suggest that, and Faramir did hear him out. But Telemnar was confident of his ability to get us here, and the Dol Amroth men, including our level-headed Sadair, believed him, as well." 

"And he was right, thank Eru. And I'm glad enough to see you to leave it there." Aragorn said. Smiling mischievously, Aragorn added, "And I think that Chief Cook Mairenwen was happy to see you again, as well." 

"How did you...?" 

"You left your cloak in the kitchens." Aragorn notes, with a wry, fond smile for his old friend. "I saw it when I went to pick up biscuits for Faramir." 

Magordan chuckled. "Yes, she was glad, ye imp. And I glad to see her, as well." 

Aragorn wondered if he should perhaps say more, press Magordan gently to learn if the older man perhaps wanted to stay in Minas Tirith, to pursue a relationship with the handsome matron, instead of continue to follow Faramir hither and thither. But Magordan's eyes went to Boromir and Faramir, who were still trying to drown one another in a friendly enough fashion, so Aragorn put the thought away for later. It was a topic which certainly shouldn't be aired in his son's hearing, in any case. 

"The children are playing." Aragorn commented, instead. 

"So I see." Magordan commented, before calling encouragement to Faramir. Aragorn's son had become a better wrestler over the past few years, thanks in part to Magordan's tutelage. This scuffle would have been over some time ago if the two young men were on land, but in the water, Faramir was faster and quicker. Aragorn took Boromir's part, cheering for his Steward while Magordan called out advice and praise to Faramir. It was actually Boromir who called the match, conceding to his brother when Faramir began to tire. 

"Faramir knows that Boromir let him win." Aragorn commented quietly. "Though he is gracious in accepting the victory today." 

"He's tired." Magordan commented of his charge, "Faramir insisted on taking a turn at the oars, when Telemnar had his men row to help us get up the straits. Almost everyone took a turn, save myself and Telemnar. Faramir forebade us both." 

"I am glad." Aragorn said, with a grateful look for his son. Magordan's right elbow still pained him, from a long-ago arrow injury. One Aragorn had helped treat him for, when Aragorn was still Estel, just thirteen years old and his foster-father's apprentice healer. 

"He is a good man, your son." Magordan said with quiet pride, continuing to watch Faramir and Boromir as they conversed quietly at the other end of the pool. Whatever was being said made Faramir blush, Aragorn noted with interest, although he had no desire to swim all the way over there to find out what it was. He was feeling too peacefully lazy. His boys deserved their secrets, besides. 

The brothers ended their conversation and began a race back to Aragorn and Magordan. Aragorn noted with some amusement that it was Faramir, this time, who let his brother win. Boromir did not accept that false victory with equal grace, but was easily enough diverted when Magordan laughingly shared that he and Faramir had learned a song or five about Aragorn's youthful adventures in Umbar. 

Aragorn was then treated to Faramir's golden baritone regaling them with a roughly translated song entitled "Dread Captain Thorongil," in which Aragorn's youthful alter-ego breathed fire and rode to battle on a kraken, slaying the brave defenders of Umbar. And then to a second song, a parody of the first, in which Aragorn proceeded to develop an unfortunate romantic attachment to said kraken after the end of the battle, thus explaining his subsequent disappearance. 

The last made Boromir laugh. He began an on-the-spot improvisation of a song about Aragorn's later adventures with the Balrog which was similarly, yet even more indecently, themed. That did result in Aragorn finding the energy to get up and shove his Steward in the pool. And then make Boromir swim the length of it and back. After his return, Boromir confined himself to slightly less salacious lyrics. 

Listening to his son and Boromir sing was actually quite pleasant. Both younger men had excellent singing voices, with Boromir's baritone being just enough deeper than Faramir's that they complimented one another well when it came to singing such adventure ballads, satirical or not. In fact, all of Faramir's Dol Amroth kin, and even Eowyn and Eomer, sang beautifully. Generation to generation, thirty-four generations from Mithrellas of Dol Amroth, the legacy of her grandfather, Maglor Feanorion, bred true. All of his get could sing like sirens. 

It was not public knowledge, that Mithrellas had been Maglor's granddaughter. Until well after she was an adult herself, she had believed the name she knew, Belegaeron, to be his only name. After Boromir and Faramir accidentally rescued Mithrellas and her cousin Rian from their centuries-long imprisonment beneath Minas Ithil, Mithrellas had told the truth of her lineage to a select few, including the brothers, Elrond and his children, and the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood and their adopted sons. Galadriel had taken the news as if it wasn't truly a surprise. Lord Celeborn had handled it less well, though he had come around before his wife sailed. He loved her too much, and was too good a father and too fair an elf, to hate Galadriel for her cousin, his adopted sons for their great-grandfather, or the Dol Amroth princes for their ancestor. 

Faramir, his late mother Finduilas, and a slew of their other Dol Amroth cousins, were actually composers as well as singers. Aragorn was quite proud of his son's accomplishments, in that regard, and hoped that in the future Faramir might have more time to devote to such endeavors. 

Unfortunately, Boromir's compositional talents ran more along the lines of regrettably catchy drinking songs. And he was very good at coming up with them, and they were very, very hard to forget. Aragorn could not think of his former treasonous Commodities Guild Master Burgold, or even walk by certain buildings in Minas Tirith, without beginning to hum, "Burgold, Burgold, you musty old toad," the first line of an insulting ditty entitled "The Ballad of Fat Burgold," which Boromir had composed well over a dozen years ago. And a song which was still quite popular in the city. 

Aragorn often appreciated Boromir's sense of humor. Writing songs about treasonous and unpleasant guildmasters was one thing, provided that the dirtier parts were not actually sung in front of small children. However, Aragorn had sincerely contemplated ordering his Steward to shovel out every stable in Minas Tirith, after he found out that it was actually Boromir who had written an appallingly earthy song about Aragorn and Arwen's wedding night. In fact, Aragorn had gone so far as to consider, for at least a few minutes, allowing Elrohir and Elladan to take Boromir back to Imladris with them, for a visit. 

It had been Faramir, Imrahil, and Arwen who combined their efforts to talk him out of it. The song had been enough to make even Arwen blush, and Arwen almost never blushed. But Aragorn's wife was politically astute enough to know that, as embarrassing and inappropriate as the song had been, it had not been mean-spirited, and that it had even done them a favor, in a way. Salacious songs apparently helped the inhabitants of their new capitol city to see that Aragorn and Arwen were just a newly-wed couple in love, and not invading foreign despots. Not that that had been Boromir's reasoning - he'd just been drunk and having a good time with his friends. Aragorn's dear golden-haired idiot of a Steward was actually even better at composing naughty ballads when he was drunk. 

After the incident with the wedding song, Boromir had been much more careful. Aragorn had let Imrahil paddle Boromir soundly, and then added his own punishments on top of that. But, after several years, Aragorn could almost see the humor in "Delving through the Sweet Flower of Rivendell." Almost. 

The evening ended not long after the impromptu concert, when Faramir and Magordan began to yawn. Dressed in clean clothes but with their hair still wet, the brothers leaned on one another- well, really more Faramir on Boromir, but the elder was gracious enough to pretend that it was mutual - as they left the bathing pools. Magordan bid them farewell, heading in the wrong direction if he was going back to his own room, Aragorn noted with interest. 

Aragorn prepared himself to part from his boys, Boromir having already offered to let Faramir sleep in his rooms in the citadel, and Faramir already having accepted. Then Boromir paused, Faramir half-leaning on his left shoulder. 

"Captain-father?" Boromir asked Aragorn, as hesitant and unsure as Boromir ever was, which even then wasn't very. The nickname itself was a Dol Amroth one, an affectionate term between a young sailor and a Captain who provided loving guidance as well as just employment. The answering term would normally be sail-son, but Aragorn used another. 

"Yes, Heart-son?" He prompted Boromir, his voice a bit husky. Boromir but rarely addressed him so tenderly, and Captain-father was also a reference to "Captain-uncle Thorongil," which Boromir had called him as a child. 

"There is room for you as well in my apartment tonight, Captain-father. If you would like to stay close to our wandering jewel." Boromir invited. 

Faramir murmured a sleepy endearment as Aragorn accepted, glad to have his wandering jewel home, and glad as well for the company of his faithful jewel - his tactless but loving Steward, the other-son of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thank you so very much for reading this all the way through! And my thanks to Firstar for the story request, it was very interesting to write about a post-war Faramir and Aragorn in the AU where Boromir lived. My thanks also to Sparx, who long ago came up with the idea of Boromir making up a song about the traitorous Commodities Guild Master, and the clever title itself, I believe! 
> 
> Just a few notes of interest, as I apparently cannot help myself. 
> 
> In this story, Aragorn, after he found out that Faramir was his son, created Faramir and Eowyn the Prince of Eryn Nelsir, the forest of three rivers, a name I made up for the land between the Baranduin and the Isen, including the Greyflood. Eryn Nelsir would encompass the Enedwaith and the Minhiriath and Eryn Vorn, and much of what had once been Cardolan. I have Aragorn choosing it because it is a large wooded area by the sea in Arnor, near to Gondor, and because having Faramir and Eowyn there might spur population movement and exchanges of culture between there and Dol Amroth, Ithilien, and Gondor. Also, I think that Aragorn wanted Faramir to have something of his own. 
> 
> In this AU of the AU, I think that Faramir will be Aragorn's wandering jewel for much of his life, often serving as Aragorn's diplomat. Eowyn will almost always travel with him. Rochilien their daughter will grow up to be the warrior princess of Eryn Nelsir. She will later have several sisters, the youngest of whom will be a warrior and a sea-captain herself. Eowyn and Faramir's second daughter, Mithiriel, is the only one of their children to be the same as in my other AU. She'll be born when Rochilien is 8 or maybe even 11, and she'll be much the same as she is in the other AU. She'll still marry Theli the elf and become the Lady of Imladris when Elrohir and Elladan decide that they'd rather wander around Middle Earth and visit their sister's children than rule anything. 
> 
> Magordan will eventually marry Mairenwen, and they'll travel with Faramir and Eowyn's household until Magordan is old enough that he wants to retire, at which point they'll probably return to Minas Tirith and Faramir will get another guard-captain and personal cook. Given the food allergies, I think having a cook travel with his household is probably a good idea! 
> 
> That's all, for now, in this AU. I'll come back to the AU version of the Quest in "A Lucky Fall" after I'm further along with Beginnings & Endings. And I may write a few other things in this AU of the AU here and there as inspiration strikes me - if there's something you would particularly like to read, by all means let me know! I make no promises to deliver, or to do so in a fashion which is expected - for instance, my friend Beth once asked for me to write a story taking place during the Quest. What I ended up writing in response to that was "Ouch on Splat," a short ficlet about Faramir's cats' perspective on Gollum. Here's the link if you're interested: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/227524/chapters/355616
> 
> But I always do love hearing from readers, and sometimes a short piece - or what is intended to be a short piece - turns into a longer story, like this one. 
> 
> Thank you again for reading!


End file.
